


Derisive

by notjustmom



Series: Words, Words, Words [204]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Family Angst, Fluff, Gen, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, Past history of Mystrade, Returning Home, Weddings, extra extra fluffy, mystrade, shakespeare quotes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-04 00:25:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 117
Words: 93,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6633301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>derisive: adjective: dəˈ rī siv: expressing contempt or ridicule.</p><p>mid 17th century: from late Middle English: via Old French late Latin derisio(n-), from deridere ‘scoff at.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story continues a bit of the Euphemism verse...assume that Mystrade is as yet unknown to Sherlock and John, though John has suspected a goldfish in Mycroft's life without knowing exactly what a goldfish may be...
> 
> and someday...there will be an origin story of a certain goth poet and a tastefully mohawked violinist meeting at an open mic night.

A derisive snort erupted from the couch.

"Hmmm?"

"We are invited to Mycroft's for dinner tonight. Seems he has 'something of import' to relay to us."

"Do we have to dress, or is it casual dining?" John snorted, trying to imagine the British Government in anything less than his sartorial splendour.

"Wait...you want to go?" Sherlock sat up and glared at John's head until John turned to look at him.

"Why not?"

"Why not??!"

"If it were a case, or he was limiting your access to funds, or sending you to Europe again, he'd send a minion, or he'd appear without notifying us. This could be something else altogether..."

"What...you know something...you are looking at the keyboard instead of at me and your toes can't keep still and you are pulling at your right eyebrow... Mycroft has. found.a...'goldfish'? "

"A what?"

"Hmmm? Oh...Mycroft considers himself a big fish in a sea of goldfish...and it seems he has decided that being lonely isn't all it's cracked up to be, so..."

"I'm your 'goldfish?'" John's eyes glittered in amusement.

"Yes...uhm...no...only in Mycroft's narrow definition of his limited life experience... so, we shall attend?"

John nodded, and went back to working on the blog.

 

Fancy dress or casual? - SH

We are just grilling in the back yard. - MH

Since when do you have a grill or someone to grill with? - SH

7 pm, please be prompt, bring beer if you are inclined to bring anything. - MH

 

"It's George!"

"Who?"

"Lestrade..."

"No...I did wonder...he's been dressing better lately, he doesn't get upset as easily as he used to when he was married...and I did notice.."

"What?"

"On his new phone, there's a selfie of the two of them..."

"Damn...there's always something!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> not sure how or where this is going...got angsty...will have more backstory soon...

"I didn't even think he knew he had a backyard..."

"Hush."

"Damn..."

Mycroft was dressed in lightweight charcoal shorts, and a Grateful Dead shirt, more remarkable for the fact that it appeared to fit him like he'd worn it for years, and he was wearing...sandals?

"Sherlock, uhm...Dr. Watson...please come in. Gregory is just making sure the grill is hot enough."

"Gregory?"

"That's his name, love."

"Right."

"Boys! Nice surprise you decided to accept...and you brought my favourite, thanks, John."

"I remembered what you ordered a few weeks ago, the night we 'hung out'."

"Ahhh...right, thanks, mate." 

"So...Myc..."

"Sherlock?"

"How long..."

"How...long...? Oh, you mean...well..."

"No, I know it's not a recent development...you two are way too comfortable...you met during that time that Mum didn't speak of...when you hitchhiked around and spent time in hostels, doing readings in coffee shops..."

"He was quite good...would've made a decent starving artist."

"And you...you were busking..." Sherlock saw the look shared between his brother and his mentor and his brain fizzled to a dead stop.

"We had just finished our first years of Uni, and we were different then, Sherlock. Your brother needed time, and I didn't know what I wanted to do...wasn't copper material then, still thought my music was important, could change things..."

"You could have, Gregory, you had a passion I haven't heard before or since..."

"Oh, Myc...stop...I do believe you just broke your brother."

John grabbed the beer before Sherlock dropped it, and led him to a lawn chair.

"So...what happened? I mean, Greg was married for years..."

"Yeah...I made the mistake of giving him an ultimatum...and I came out with the short stick."

"C'mon, Greg." John sat in the chair next to Sherlock and grabbed his hand. "All the messy, human bits..."

"Myc?" Greg looked at Mycroft, who nodded, then turned his attention to the grill, laying on slabs of meat, like he knew what he was doing.

"I had a chance to go to the States, job offer with the BSO. I asked him to go with me, I gave him a day, told him I'd leave him a ticket, I knew he had a passport...but I almost missed the plane waiting for him."

"I was two minutes late," Mycroft whispered.

"What?" Greg nearly dropped his beer on his foot.

"Two minutes, Gregory. I didn't believe in fate, or destiny or whatever, but when I saw your plane take off, I knew it was time for me to grow the hell up."

"Why?"

"It was a sign, love. It wasn't our time, yet."

"Damn it, Myc."

"Sorry. I thought you should know."

Sherlock sat up in his chair, and looked at his brother, Lestrade and John, rubbed his face and wondered aloud, "What'd I miss? And, Myc, watch your fire, getting a bit hot. Greg?"

"No, I'm fine, I just need a minute. Alone."


	3. Chapter 3

"Damn it, Myc." Sherlock sighed as his brother opened a beer and watched the flames dance. "I'm sorry."

"What do you have to be sorry for?" Mycroft smiled sadly at him."I made a unilateral decision all those years ago, and now he doesn't know what to think. He made choices based on the assumption that I...didn't...want...fuck...dinner's ready. Sherlock, could you grab the salad? Gregory made a lovely salad...enough for an army."

"Yeah...yeah, of course." Sherlock went into the kitchen through the French doors to find Lestrade sitting at the table.

"Gra- Greg? Hey, dinner...John and I can take off if you need to talk..."

"Hmm? No, no...I asked him to ask you two here, wanted him to quit hiding us, no...more specifically, me. I wanted you guys to know. I was a little more than jealous when you were able to propose to John in public like that. I know our relationship isn't good for either of our careers. But hell, my career stalled out when you...ya know...no, I never wanted more than what I had. And Myc is more important than the Prime Minister, and doesn't have to run for office. I've always hated paperwork and the higher you go, the more paperwork there is...God I want a cigarette..."

"Sorry, I quit for good after I got back from ya know..."

Lestrade turned and looked at Sherlock; in the years since his return, the younger man had grown into the good man Lestrade had known he was capable of becoming all those years ago. 

"I would've come back for him, if I had known, but he never wrote me, never tried to get in touch with me. I always thought he felt I chose the music over him. I was selfish enough to believe I could have both. Instead, I ended up without either one. That passion Myc mentioned, it left when that plane took off. I was good enough to fake it for a season, I dated some nice American girls, bummed around music festivals, followed the Dead for a while..."

"Myc's shirt?"

"Yeah, I had an old address for him, guessing it was your parents'? I sent that one night after I got roaring drunk, didn't send a note or an address, didn't have one then. Anyway, our first 'morning after' here, when we got back together, I found it buried in his blasted sock index, way in the back of the drawer, neatly folded with the original packaging with my much younger messy scrawl..."

"We should go back outside, John might get jealous..."

"Can't have that. We'll be ok, don't worry, we always find a way to forgive each other...I need another beer, anyway."

 

"Why didn't you try to contact him?"

"For the first year, I had the BSO's number memorised, dialed the number so many times then would hang up. I wrote letter after letter, never mailed them. I decided that he was having a great time in the States, probably dating lovely redheads, maybe settling down...but then I saw a little blurb in a Boston paper announcing he was leaving after a season, and knew he'd blame me for that. So, I got back into Oxford, and worked my arse off, kept my nose clean, and tried to forget him."

"The shirt - "

"Yeah, I went home during the holidays one year, my last year, and there it was, his handwriting, but no return address. I opened the package and it was like he had walked into the room, his scent nearly knocked me out. I wore it every night for years. I had nothing else that could remind me that I had ever been in love. I didn't really know I had been in love when I watched his plane take off when I was two minutes late when I was twenty. Didn't know until I saw him years later and had to be polite to his wife at one of those political functions. He still wore the earring I had given him the night before he left for Bost-"

"Probably most excruciating moment of my life, especially since your little brother had deduced her infidelity the moment he met her, luckily he was tactful enough not to say anything while she was standing there, which back then was indeed a rare event."

"Salad? Another beer, Myc?"

"Let's eat, shall we?"


	4. Chapter 4

John watched as Greg grabbed another beer and sank into a chair. Greg stared at Mycroft's back, not saying a word, and John caught Sherlock's eye, remembering all the times he and Sherlock had to forgive, if not forget, but there were moments when everything collapsed in on them, one single memory could trigger days of silence, even now.

Mycroft had reopened an old wound that had become brand new, as Greg had to rewrite his history, the reasons why he had done all he had done weren't valid any longer. Mycroft turned and placed the platter of steaks and corn on the table, his face steeled against whatever was coming next.

"That case, the one from last week..." Sherlock began. John reached for Sherlock's hand that was fisted tightly against his leg under the table, he placed his hand gently over his, and stroked it until Sherlock released a breath, his hand relaxed, and his fingers entwined with John's.

"Yeah?" Greg looked up and grinned. "Gimme."

Sherlock invented a crime scene on the spot, adding bits that made even Mycroft snicker a bit. "....so clearly, it was the ambidextrous knife juggler, who was sleeping with the twin sisters of the victim, he could tell them apart from the tattoos, it was completely accidental, the victim tapped him on the shoulder and he turned suddenly...."

"Ohhhhh...damn," Greg laughed, well into his dinner and third beer. He winked at Sherlock and closed his eyes.

"It was your smile, Myc. Your smile. And then your voice as you read in those dark smoggy cafes, we smoked like chimneys in those days, I had just finished my first year, and I was bored to tears already, with everything and everyone. And then you stubbed out your cigarette and stood. I could see your red hair glowing from the single spotlight as you got up on stage, which meant you stood at the microphone on a tiny box...I looked up at you and you smiled at me, at least I think you were smiling at me...and then you began to read...actually, perform, you never read anything as you had all these words in your head, you would pull them out and...damn...you were the hottest thing I'd ever seen in my entire life. When you were done, you came over to my table, bought me a beer, took my hand in yours and said..."

"Violinist...since you were three, beautiful callouses. You just finished your first year - your parents want you to be a barrister...you want to play fiddle for a punk band...you pretend you're straight because it's easier, and you've never fallen in love with anyone, so it doesn't really matt-"

"I kissed you before I knew your name."

"I'm Myc-"

"Greg."

"I don't have a lot, but, enough space if you-"

"Yes."

 

Sherlock's grip tightened on John's fingers, and he looked down at his plate of food that he hadn't touched. "You were nineteen...you hadn't come home for the holidays at Christmas or spring...when you came home, finally, after...you were different, the light was gone, and you were wearing a suit, I'd never seen anyone so buttoned up...you gave me all the poetry books you had, then had a bonfire...you burned every poem you'd ever written."

"I..."

Greg put his bottle down and turned towards Mycroft. He laid his hands on his face and kissed him softly. "I understand, I know, love. I just wish...damn, it doesn't matter now. All we have is...you're the poet, Myc...sorry, guys. I need to go for a walk. Don't worry, love, I'll be home later. I can't sleep without you anymore." He picked up Mycroft's trembling hand and placed it against his lips. "I have my keys, don't feel like you need to wait up, though I know you will. You always were the braver one, love."

He nodded to John and Sherlock, then strode off down the driveway without looking back.

"I have some excellent scotch, if you wouldn't mind indulging me?" Mycroft murmured, as he cleared the table.

Sherlock looked at John and nodded. "I have an early shift tomorrow, but maybe next time, the meal was lovely, Mycroft. Thank you...I'm sure...he will..."

"Thank you, John, if I may call you that?"

"Of course."

"You know Gregory well, do you really think..."

"I do, I live with your brother and we have survived...you need to give him time, just don't disappear on him, yeah?"

"Understood."

"See you at home, love."


	5. Chapter 5

"Just curious..."

"Hmm?"

"Did he know about the time I was gone? Did you let him keep believing I was dead."

"No. God, no. We actually got together because..."

"Myc..."

"It happened that day..."

"Seriously?"

"I, uhm, bought a bottle of the good stuff, even better than this, and knocked on his door. He opened it and looked at me, then the bottle and pulled me inside."

 

"Why are you here, Myc?"

"Sherlock isn't dead, Gregory."

"Wha-?"

"He, I, we, faked it...he had to..Moriarty had snipers on you and Dr. Watson and Mrs. Hudson, I couldn't, we couldn't let anything happen to any of you. So, he had to jump, Molly helped...John thinks he's dead, he has to keep believing that, but I couldn't let you think you had failed somehow..."

"I did fail, Myc. I chose to believe that he was capable...is he safe?"

"Not really, he's already left to try to take apart Moriarty's network, could take years...I should've done more, but I did what he asked, and I will try to keep John and all of you safe."

"Why do you care, Myc?"

"You can ask me that?"

"Yeah, Myc, yeah, I can and I do. You..didn't even come to say goodbye to me...I married a woman who I liked well enough, but, damn, I broke her heart because I didn't love her. I couldn't because I was in love with someone else."

"Who, Gregory, who were you in love with?"

"Myc, oh, God. I'm so sorry about Sherlock; I really am, but if I can't kiss you and take you to bed right now..."

"Please...."

 

"So, you've been together that long?"

Mycroft nodded. "I blew it tonight, I thought it was time and I was ready to share this with you, but some wounds go too deep. I don't think he will forgive me this time."

"Myc, John has forgiven me for being 'not dead.' It's only been five years since I've been back, and yes, sometimes he has nightmares, and won't talk to me for a couple of days, but I stay, I wait and I stay until he remembers."

"Remembers?"

"That there is nothing I would not do for him, that I love him more than my own life, even though I don't say that aloud, he knows. He comes to me, and asks me to take off my shirt...he leads me to bed and names my scars, kisses them until we both can't do anything but hold each other and fall asleep."

"I want to make it up to him."

"You can't...all you can do is be here, be here for him, let him come to you. But maybe write him some poetry? Let him know, remind him..." Sherlock finishes his drink and stands. "I have to go home, now. But know this, Greg is good for you, he adores you, I saw it tonight, for some reason, he loves you. Kidding, Myc. I know you became someone harder when he left, now I understand why you were the way you were. It must have been hard..."

Mycroft nods and stands. "Thank you, you have no idea how much it means that we have your blessing."

"Of course you do, it will keep you out of my hair. No, just be patient, Myc. He will be home soon. Good night."

Mycroft pours another drink after he hears the front door shut.

 

"John! John, where are you?" Sherlock flew up the stairs.

"Shhh, I'm here, right here, love." John was in his chair, his glasses on the tip of his nose, a journal opened on his lap. 

Sherlock collapsed at his feet. "Promise me, John. Promise, you won't leave me."

John pulled the lanky git into his lap and said nothing. He kissed the top of his head, and simply held on to him until the trembling stopped. 

"Up, you git, you and your brother...quite the pair. Time for bed." He took Sherlock by the hand and led him to their room. Not another word was spoken until they were undressed, Sherlock laid out on his stomach, John straddling his thighs.

"Berlin, Egypt...New York...Kiev...Mexico City...Serbia..."

"I'm so so sorry, John..."

"Shhhhh..."

 

"Myc?"

"Hmmmph? Wha-"

"Myc, love, you can't sleep in the chair, you will be the worst grump tomorrow..."

"Greg-you came home."

"Of course I did, you idiot; just needed some air, needed to organize my sock index so to speak...I have loved you for almost 30 years now, it's too late to stop now. Come 'ere, love."

Greg helped Mycroft to his feet and sat him down on the bed, removing his shorts and pants, then tucked him into bed. He undressed and curled around him, sighing against his back. "I love you beyond reason and logic, Mycroft Holmes, I just wish we'd had all those years together. I don't want to waste any time holding onto what we didn't have and focus on what we have now. I know you are asleep, but I need you to know I'm not going anywhere."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Holmes boys travel down memory lane...

"Noooooo..."

"Sherlock, love, wake up, please?"

"...please...just let me die here.."

"Sherlock, shhh, I'm here...wake up!"

"John? Oh, John..."

"Where were you? This wasn't your normal nightmare, love."

Sherlock sat up and ran his shaking fingers through his sweat soaked curls. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

"You know I've known Lestrade for over twenty years...I've never told you how we met."

"You don't have to, you aren't the same person now..."

"I need to tell you; I wouldn't be here if not for him."

"Lestrade was a beat cop, about to be made sergeant, when he showed up at the club that I used to frequent. Someone had called him because they found me in a stall."

John cautiously reached for Sherlock's hand, and waited.

 

" 'Hey, come on kid, look at me...' " He put his hand in my pocket and found my wallet. I heard him curse, then radio for an ambulance. " 'Sherlock, damn it, I should've recognized you; ya got tall and stupid, didn't you. Come on, kid, you can't do this, not here. ' "

" 'Please...just let me die here...please go the fuck away...' "

" 'Sorry, kid, I can't.' "

" 'Why?' "

" 'I knew your brother, long time ago. Come on, I'm here to help you, please, let me help you?' "

 

"So, he got me to hospital, but disappeared once I got to the A & E, guess he didn't want to bump into Myc yet. Somehow he found me later, he knew street people who knew where to find me."

" 'They let you out pretty fast.' "

" 'I'm 23, I signed myself out. They couldn't hold me, Mycroft can't tell me what to do anymore.' "

" 'You finished school, yeah?' "

" 'Degrees in Chemistry and Biology...what's it to you?' "

" 'What do you want to do?' "

" 'Hmmm?' "

" 'What do you want to do with that genius brain of your besides burn it on drugs?' "

I looked at him, and saw that he truly was curious, really cared.

" 'I like puzzles...' "

" 'Puzzles?' "

" 'I read the articles in the paper about crime scenes...I can picture them in my head and see what happened, well, from the meager descriptions, I can usually figure out what probably happened.'"

"Lestrade looked at me and took a deep breath. 'I know a lady, has a flat in central London that she rents out, if you keep your nose clean for two months on your own, call me and I'll introduce you. About the puzzles...I'll see what I can do.' He continued on his beat and I didn't see him again for two months, as he had been promoted."

" 'Lestrade.' "

" 'Hey, it's uhm, me...' "

" 'Sherlock? Sorry I haven't been around, how're things?' "

" 'I know you probably won't believe me, no one ever does, but I've been clean for two months...' "

" 'I get off in an hour...meet me at 221B Baker Street? If you get there before me, her name is Mrs. Hudson, just tell her you know me.' "

" 'Yeah, okay. Uhm, thanks.' "

" 'No problem.' "

 

"So, Greg set you up here?"

"Yeah..."

"And you've been clean..."

"Almost 21 years now, once I got settled, he would bring me cold files, I'd go through them with him, show him what I could see...eventually he'd bring photos from recent scenes, I'm sure he wasn't supposed to, but I became his 'informant'. He wanted to give me credit, but I didn't want Mycroft to put his nose where it didn't belong, so, he got promoted quite early in his career from all the cases I'd helped him with. I'd go to his house for dinner, where I met his wife. I knew she was cheating on him, the minute I shook her hand and saw her wedding ring, she hadn't cleaned it in years, the rest of her jewelry was clean, but the band was dull. I managed to wait til I was leaving before I told him; he nodded, and managed to smile, and he said,'Not surprised, but good to know, actually, don't feel quite as guilty now.' Didn't know what he meant until last night..."

 

"Bugger. Bugger. Bugger."

"Hmmmm?"

"Gregory?"

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you, just trying to remember where I put my violin."

"I think it's in your trunk? You put it in the attic when you moved in."

"Right."

Greg left the room and Mycroft soon heard rustling around in the attic above him. He closed his eyes and recalled the first time he saw Gregory since the night before he left for Boston.

 

" 'Myc - Mycroft Holmes?' " He turned and saw the man he thought he'd never see again.

" 'DI Lestrade, lovely to finally meet you.' " By habit, he never shook hands, but this time he made an exception. Still the same fingers, just stronger and older...

" 'This is my wife, Jenny.' "

" 'Lovely to meet you, Mrs. Lestrade, I have a call I need to deal with, please excuse me.' "

 

"Hey, love, where did you go?"

"Hmmm...?"

"Where were you...your face was doing the thing...don't...please don't-"

"Sorry. Just remembering, when I saw you at that dinner, I couldn't leave fast enough. I think I spent two hours in the Gents, trying not to throw up."

"Ah, that's why it was 'out of order'? By order of the British Government. I had no idea you'd be there. Jenny asked me later who you were. I told her you were the head of MI-5."

"You did not."

"I did."

"Did you find your violin?"

"Yep, right where you said it was...needs cleaning and new strings, but it's still in decent shape. Let's leave the past where it belongs, yeah?"

"Not always so easy."

"I know, come here." Greg sat up against the headboard and Mycroft laid his head in his lap. Greg ran his fingers through Mycroft's hair and closed his eyes.

"There was never anyone but you."

"I know."


	7. Chapter 7

Lestrade yawned and opened the tin of biscuits. He almost missed the piece of paper that fluttered to the floor.

Dearest Gregory- I'm a bit rusty, but, take this as you will:

my love for you  
imperfect as it is  
resides in every  
breath I take

in every touch  
in every sigh  
in each moment  
we have

"It's lovely, Myc." He leaned back into the arms that had encircled him.

"I'm out of practice."

"It'll do. You'll do me...uhm...the other night..."

"Yes?"

"When Sherlock and John were here, I was going to ask you..."

"Ask me what, love?"

Greg turned in Mycroft's arms and looked him in those astonishing eyes. Much like Sherlock's, just bluer, icier to those who didn't know him. "I wanted to ask you to marry me."

"You want-"

"Yes, of course I do."

"Even after-"

"Yes, you idiot."

Mycroft sighed. "You want to marry me-"

"I do."

"Why?"

"I'm tired of hiding, Myc. I know who I am, I know who I love, and I'm not afraid any more. I want to wear your ring, I want to throw the biggest damn party..."

"Yes, Gregory, yes, love." Mycroft kissed him softly, then looked into his eyes. "You realise Sherlock will become your brother-in-law..."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take, love."

"Very well."

"I have to make tea, then I have to go to work and so do you, but then I'm taking you out to dinner if you are free tonight..."

"I'll check my schedule..."

"Berk."

"I do believe there is an opening..."

"I love you."

"I love you more."

Greg rolled his eyes and kissed Mycroft one last time before he remembered he hadn't put the kettle on yet."Tea..."

"Tea."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> extra (ahem...extra) squishy...you have been warned.

"Heya, John. No Sherlock tonight?"

"Nope, he's working out colour schemes for the 'big do'. That kinda thing bores me to tears, but he loves it..." John signaled for two more pints.

"Long day?"

"Long week...he's having nightmares from when he was younger, seems you loosened up a few memories. Cheers!"

"Shit, I'm sorry, mate. He finally told you how we met."

"Yeah...you recognised him when you found him...?"

"Myc always carried a snap of him with a dog in his wallet. Still does, actually. I hadn't met him back then, but I remembered the face, hadn't changed all that much, had just got taller."

"What was he like then?"

"Young, thought he knew everything, and to be fair, he did know more than anyone else I'd ever met in my life; just didn't have an outlet, so he got frustrated and angry, took the drugs so he didn't have to think or care so much. He just had the cases until you. You surprised him, and he doesn't surprise easily."

"You mean...there was never anyone else?"

"No. He learned from the master. 'Caring is not an advantage...' When I saw Mycroft again all those years later, I couldn't see the man I had known, it was like he had shut that part off...once in a while I see him doing it and I have to call him back..." 

"I know, Sherlock does the same thing, it's almost like he disappears for a bit, not sure where he goes, I'm afraid one day he will stay there...anyway, so things are better now?"

"Yeah, actually. I got my violin cleaned up and tuned, I'm rusty, but I might have the fingers working in time for the 'big do' if you guys want me to..."

"I know Sherlock would love it if you...well, you just saved me time on what to get him for a wedding present. Can you compose something for him? You probably know him better than anyone."

"I don't think that's true, mate. I've known him for over twenty years, but he asked me when we were here last, when you went to the Gents, if we were mates. He didn't know I considered him a friend, it didn't surprise me that much, but he doesn't let his guard down a lot. And yeah, I never told him about Myc...yeah, I'll try to come up with something for the two of you. It'd be my honour, John."

John looked him over and nodded. "There's something else you aren't telling me."

"You spend too much time with Sherlock, mate. But yeah, yer right, I asked Myc to marry me." He pulled out a chain with a simple gold band dangling from it; he kissed it then slid back under his shirt. "We just picked them up this morning, wanted Myc to have something he could wear on his finger at work that wouldn't cause an uproar, so we found a beautiful signet ring...you should have seen his face when I slid it on his finger. He lit up like a damn Christmas tree."

"I bet." John grinned and hoped Sherlock's wedding planning was going well.

 

"Damn and blast! Oh, come in, Myc, don't just stand there...too many damn shades of blue, none of them will do."

"Brought dinner, Indian?"

"Oh...what time is it? God, that smells amazing, I'm actually quite hungry for once...hmmm...let me clear off the coffee table, you don't want to put food on the kitchen table..."

"I know better than that, brother dear."

"Yeah, I guess you do."

"Sit, can I get you a glass of wine?"

"That would be lovely. I, uhm, have some news."

"I figured as much, you don't normally drop by with take-away. I won't deduce it, tell me."

Mycroft waited until Sherlock came back with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"So...."

"So. Gregory has asked me to marry him...and I said yes..."

Sherlock looked at his brother's face and grinned. "That's great, Myc. No, really. I'm pleased for you. He makes you happy, and somehow you do the same for him. You know what I mean...let me see the ring."

Mycroft laughed and put out his hand, Sherlock gently took his brother's hand in his and examined the ring, a simple signet ring in yellow gold, with a mosaic of blue and green stones. 

"Exquisite, brother mine. I am so glad you got your goldfish back."

They shared a quiet moment, then Sherlock hopped up. "Plates, forks, napkins, yes? I'm absolutely starving...I didn't realise how many shades of blue there were...and then there is the cake, serviettes, invitations....so much to do."

Mycroft sat back and watched the whirlwind that was his brother pull out folder after folder, and smiled.

"What?"

"You're amazing."

"Huh?"

"I've always thought so, just never thought you'd let me say it to you."

"Uhm. Whoa. That's...the nicest thing you've ever said to me. Are you feeling all right? How much wine have you had?"

"No, I'm serious, you are remarkable, and I just wanted you to know that, uhm...I am very fond of you."

Sherlock stopped and took a deep breath. "Thank you, Myc. I...that is..I am fond of you as well."

"Dinner?"

"Dinner. Right."

 

Congratulations are in order, so I hear? - SH

How did you- GL

Myc was just here with take-away, beautiful ring. - SH

I'm very happy for you both - SH

Thank you, Sherlock that means a lot. - GL

 

"Cat's out of the bag."

"Huh?"

"Mycroft was just over at your flat, told Sherlock about our engagement, sounds like they ate take-away together without killing each other."

"Maybe they are finally growing up?"

"Dunno...another round?"

"Hmm, not tonight, need to see what Sherlock's up to, when I left, he was grumbling about blue..."

"Right, mate, night."

 

"Sherlock?"

"Hmm...oh...stay right there. Stop. That's the colour I want."

"What are you on about, love?"

"Your eyes in the moonlight...perfect."

"When did you become a romantic?"

"When you took me back."

"Sherlock..."

"John...I didn't really know until I had to leave you, and I thought it was too late...too late and I never believed you would forgive me...but, here you are, here we are, after everything. God, I love you."

"I've always loved you, I was just afraid..." Sherlock touched his face gently then wrapped him in his arms.

"You don't have to be afraid anymore, John."

They stood there in the moonlight, simply holding on to each other, until John whispered, "got any food left? I'm starving."


	9. Chapter 9

Sorry that I haven't had any cases for you lately - GL

Door's open, practicing serviettes - SH

Wedding's not for months yet - GL

Get me some cases, then - SH

Arse - GL

 

Lestrade opened the door to find Sherlock in the middle of the floor, surrounded by a fleet (or was it a battalion?) of swans.

"YouTube?"

"YouTube."

"The callouses will come back."

"Yeah. I was wondering..."

"Hmmm?" Another swan appeared as if by magic.

"If I could come over here and practice some time, I'm working on something for Myc, and he's being..."

"Nosy?"

"Got it in one."

"Anytime. There's something else..."

"I feel like I should apologise."

"For...?" Sherlock flipped another swan onto the pile.

"Not telling you about Myc sooner."

"Why?"

"Why? Because..."

"You knew Myc and I had a difficult relationship until just recently; you reasoned correctly that over the last few years I've had a bit on my plate, and that I would have found the discussion of my brother's 'love life' unpalatable to say the least. I know you feel guilty for hiding the relationship in general, but you don't owe me any explanations, and I expect none. Now...have you set a date?"

Lestrade laughed. "Not yet, we have to find a date that works for both of us, and we don't want to do it before you and John..."

"Haven't you waited long enough?"

"What?"

"Greg, you have wanted this how long?"

"A long arse time."

"So...you basically want to throw Myc the biggest party you can without going overboard and embarrassing him; tying the knot is secondary, yes?"

Lestrade nodded.

"John and I will stand up for you, at the Registry Office; then if you don't mind Angelo's, we can get the restaurant for a private party, name the night. It's only fair that you get to do it before us. Besides, I need more time to get these damn swans right."

"I'll see what I can do about finding some cold files if you're interested?"

"I think John would appreciate it, he's stopped listening to anything remotely wedding related, "Yes, love...whatever you decide will be amazing...or uh-hmmm...isn't there a rerun of Dr. Who on?"

"Ouch!"

"No, it's better this way, he will show up on the date I decided on, wear what I want him to wear, etc, et cetera, and we will have done it without a single argument, and very little cost, since I know people or know people who know people who owe me a favour or two...all completely legal...for the most part..."

"I'm sure I don't want to know."

"Good. Want a beer?"

"A beer sounds great, thanks."


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the first wedding...

Lestrade reflected on the last few weeks. He hadn't realised how much he wanted, no, how he had needed for his relationship to be recognised out in the world; which meant letting his team know about Mycroft. He had called Donovan into his office, and asked her to sit. 

She was the most senior of the team, they had worked together for sixteen years; she watched as he paced around the desk, fidgeting and obviously working up to something personal that he needed to tell her. She had been there when Jenny finally admitted the affairs, and he had moved out; it had been an amicable 'parting of the ways'...what the hell did that mean anyway...too easy for a marriage that had lasted for fifteen years. He had mourned their friendship, and their...

"Sir?" Donovan finally prompted.

"Yeah, hmmm. Here's the thing. I'm getting married in a few weeks...and I wanted to invite you to the reception..."

"Congratulations, sir! I hope you and Mr. Holm-"

"You knew?"

"I am a decent detective, sir, and we have all noticed the black car, and how you've been different the last few years, you've actually been happy. It's not really any of my business, or anyone else's here, but it has been, uhm, nice to see that someone is there for you. Even if he is related to Sherlock, who isn't exactly my favourite person on the planet..."

Lestrade snorted. 

She grinned in spite of herself. "He has grown on me a bit, since he's been back, we've sort've come to some unstated agreement to be less prickly around each other...anyway, just know that I'm happy for the two of you, and I'd be honoured to help you celebrate. Just let me know when, and I'll put the word out, yeah? Was there anything else, Sir?"

"Uhm. No, Sally, thank you, I appreciate it..."

"Sir."

And it had been that simple, there had been no disruption or upheaval, and he hadn't really been expecting any, but it was nice to know his team had his back. As he dressed for the ceremony, he reflected on his entrance into the break room just the day before as he went in search of his lunch...

"Sir, some of us will be working tomorrow, and we will miss the reception but we all chipped in and bought you a cake, hope, uhm, you don't mind..." a newbie piped up.

"Davidson, thank you, it means a lot - "

"Gregory - it's almost time, Sherlock and John..."

"Myc, we still have two hours, plenty of time..." He turned and saw Mycroft's face. "Love? Whoa...sit down...breathe?"

"I - sorry...I'll just feel better once we are safely married. You look stunning, Gregory...are you sure we have to go to the reception?"

"Oh, yes...I am showing you off, and you will be the gracious, charming, funny man that I adore for a couple of hours this afternoon. Consider it your wedding present to me. You don't look so bad yourself, you know..." Lestrade kissed him lightly, promising a lively evening.

 

"John???"

"Yes, love?"

"Where are my cuff links?"

"You don't wear cuff links last time I checked?"

"I, uhm, bought, cuff links, I wanted to..."

"Whoa...damn, check next to Billy, maybe they are with the rings? I can't wait to..."

"Don't look at me like...you really like it?"

"Oh yeah...are you sure we have to go to Angelo's after?"

"Only for a little while...I'm sure we don't have to stay that longgg...John...come on, get ready!"

"We still have a couple of hours...you really do look...brilliant in that shade of blue..."

"John...ohhh...damn...let me take it off before you....godddd...."

 

"Sherlock, you have the rings?"

"Yes, Myc, and Gavin is waiting for you..."

"Gregory..."

"Yes, I know...breathe, yeah? You are going to walk through that door and tell him how you adore the very ground he walks on, because he deserves that from you. And when you sign that book, he will be your family, the family you chose long ago, just took a bit of time to get there. Do not apologise to him, do not look backward, you both have done enough of that..."

"Brother mine, when did you learn..."

"John. John taught me what love and forgiveness truly mean...anyway, today is about you and Graeme..."

"Greg-"

"Ready?"

Mycroft grinned and nodded.

 

A few minutes before...

"Greg?"

"John?"

"You okay in there?"

"Uhm...just nervous..."

"C'mon, wash your face, let's go for a walk."

"A walk?"

"Sherlock showed me there's a garden behind the courthouse, we have a few minutes."

They made their way outside, and John sat on a bench while Lestrade took a deep breath and began.

"I have never loved anyone else, John. I married someone else because it was easier than being alone and I never thought I'd have the chance...and I want this so much..."

John waited.

"I'm just afraid I pushed him into this...that he's doing this because I want it."

"Are you finished?"

Lestrade nodded.

"Mycroft and I have an odd relationship to say the least, for obvious reasons. But since you've been engaged, I've seen how he looks at you, I've caught him looking at the ring you put on his finger, and he is beyond smitten, Greg. He loves you in ways that I bet he hasn't been able to wrap his genius brain around, yet, perhaps he will never understand it to his satisfaction. You make him human. You make him happy; you have managed to keep your heart open for him, when most people would have walked away..."

"You would know," Greg whispered.

"Yeah, I tried to walk away...when he came back, I wanted to kill him. And then I looked in his eyes, and I saw, I saw everything, Greg. He started to fall onto his knees, he was so exhausted and in pain...and afraid...I had never seen him truly afraid before...I held him up gently, just held him as he sobbed and begged my forgiveness. And I took him home...I realised my life was his...damn...sorry."

"No. Thank you, John. I wasn't sure exactly what I was going to say to him today, but I know now. You have always been a good friend..."

John grinned. "We need to get you in there, yeah?"

"Yeah."

 

"Before they sign the book, Mycroft and Gregory wanted to say a few words. Mycroft?"

"I have spent the last few weeks trying to write something for today. When I was younger, words used to flow so easily for me, that was because of you. There are nights when I can't sleep...I'll be working at my desk, you'll yawn and retire for the night, and I'll join you, just hold you as you sleep, and...damn..."

"Myc...love, I know." Greg grabbed both of Mycroft's hands in his and they took a deep breath together.

"I want to become a better, wiser, more loving person because of you, for you. You deserve nothing less, Gregory. I will spend the rest of my life loving you, learning from you and growing with you. I love you, and I never want you to doubt that, ever."

Greg brought Mycroft's hands to his lips and kissed them softly.

"You. You are my heart, Mycroft, nothing more, nothing less. I know you have spent most of your life denying that you have one, it's not true. You have the biggest heart of anyone I've ever met, and I am the lucky bloke that gets to see it every day. Lucky, Myc, I'm so very lucky to have you in my life. I am going to make sure you don't ever have to wonder if I love you. I have loved you for so long, Myc...."

The official looked to Sherlock who nodded.

"You may now exchange rings. These are symbols of the words you have spoken to each other here today."

Mycroft took the ring from Sherlock and slid it onto Greg's finger. Greg blinked, then took the ring from John's hand. He nodded and slipped it onto Mycroft's hand, then kissed him until John snorted.

Greg grinned against Mycroft's lips, without a trace of embarrassment. "I love you."

"I know."

They all signed the book, the official offered his congratulations, then vanished.

"Who's hungry? I'm starving!" Greg announced before he grabbed Mycroft's hand and led him to the door. "Come on, boys!"

John reached out for Sherlock's hand and looked at him in a way that made Sherlock shiver. "John?"

"Later, yeah?"

Sherlock nodded and held on tightly to John's hand as they walked out the door and into the warm, spring scented afternoon.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry...this went angsty...again...oy! They will be fine, with help, and the recent newlyweds will be fluffy in the next chapter.

"That was ridiculous," Sherlock giggled as he led John up the stairs. They had left a nicely buzzed Lestrade slow dancing with his new husband who was feeling no pain.

"You're the one who danced with Donovan..." John muttered as he finally got out of the bespoke suit jacket that was wrinkled beyond recognition.

Sherlock led John to their bedroom, and kissed him gently. 

"She didn't step on my toes, love." Sherlock quickly unbuttoned John's shirt, then ran his fingers along his sides, sighing as he was finally able to touch John since earlier that day. 

"You know I don't...damn....Sher-" John sank against him.

"You don't what, love?" Sherlock whispered as he undid John's buttons and slid his trousers to the floor.

"...dance...God...I want..."

"Step out, love...what do you want..."

"You, I just want you..."

"You have me, John Watson, I swear you will always have me."

John looked up into his eyes, and Sherlock saw the look again.

"John? Tell me, what happened today? Did I do something? Please, talk to me."

"You didn't do anything...I was trying to talk Lestrade out of his nerves, when I realised, I...damn, Sherlock, I mean I've known for five years what you did when you were gone, but it hit me today how much you gave up for me and I had never told you how I felt about you..."

"Shhh...you know I would..."

"No, don't. Don't ever tell me you would go through what you did again. Please, don't. Promise me, Sherlock?"

Sherlock held John's face in his hands and considered the strong face, the face that he almost died for several times over, and whispered as tears streamed down both of their faces. "John, I...I swear, I will never leave you behind again, neither of us would survive it. Please tell me you believe me? Look at me, John?"

John looked deeply into his lover's eyes, and saw, what it was exactly, he couldn't define it. But, he knew truth when he heard it and he nodded. "Yes. Yes, love. I do, God help me, I do believe you." Then he kissed him as if it were for the first time, leaving Sherlock unmoored and confused.

John wrapped himself around Sherlock, just holding on to him. "Shhh, I'm here, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, love. I didn't mean to...I'm here."

"No, I always wondered, John...you just forgave me so easily...I need you to be sure...of us, of me. I...uhm...I need to...go think...I'll be on the couch if you need me." He let go of John and put his robe on.

"Sherlock?" John reached out to stop him, but saw the pain in Sherlock's eyes and nodded.

"We'll be okay, I promise, John. I just need to sort things out for myself...I love you, more than I can ever properly tell you, you know that, yeah?"

John nodded, Sherlock bent down and kissed him, then smiled at him sadly and quietly left the room, shutting the door behind him.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reception, a tango and Lestrade makes our lovely idiots listen to each other...

Mycroft leaned into Greg as they swayed to the music; Sherlock was winding down for the night. He watched as Sherlock finished with a flourish, bowed in their general direction, then put away his instrument and grabbed John's hand; John grinned at them as they exited the restaurant.

They continued to dance even without music; Mycroft sighed, in that space between contentment and sleep. The day had gone brilliantly, and Sherlock had been the biggest surprise, all he and Greg had to do was enjoy their day. He even danced with Donovan after they'd both had enough of Angelo's wine. Lestrade had played a tango, and a hush fell over the room as Sherlock and Donovan danced as if they had been longtime partners, not nearly almost mortal enemies. At the end they bowed to each other and Donovan whispered something in Sherlock's ear, he flushed but kissed her on the cheek, then grabbed his violin and played for two hours straight, his eyes never leaving John's.

He's so in love with John. God, I wish...

"They are fine, love. They both know what they almost lost, they can't get that time back, all they can do is go forward. It didn't take them as long as..."

"Shhh...mmmm..."

"Home?"

"Not yet, just a little while longer?"

"I want to take my husband home and..."

"Say that again?"

"Husband...or home?"

"Both."

"I want to take my brand new husband home and make love to him until next week."

"You have work tomorrow and I fly to Paris in a few hours."

"Then we are definitely going home now." Lestrade caught Angelo's eye and Angelo shook his head, Sherlock's family didn't pay....Lestrade nodded and led Mycroft to the black car, blessedly missing was the ubiquitous PA, whatever her name was this week. She was already in Paris, organising the meeting that would take Myc away from him for the next two weeks. They were home in ten minutes; Lestrade all but carried Mycroft to their bedroom. He undressed him and tucked him into bed, and in minutes, they were both asleep.

 

"Gregory, love?"

"Hmmmmphhh?"

"I have to go, I wanted to kiss you before I left..."

"Myc...I love you."

"I love you. I'll be home as soon as I can. Keep an eye on the boys, I just have a feeling something was different between them yesterday, not sure what it was..."

"Go, don't keep the jet waiting..."

Mycroft kissed him sweetly, then kissed his new ring. "You belong to me, Gregory Lestrade."

"Don't I know it, Mycroft Holmes..."

 

Ten minutes later:

Greg- I fucked up royally - JW

John, where are you? - GL

Just taking a walk - JW

It's 4 am. - GL

Yeah, he's sleeping on the couch, well, thinking on the couch, anyway. - JW

Come on over, Myc just left for Paris, I'll put on some coffee, you can have a piece of leftover cake. - GL

Oh God I can't even think of wedding cake, do you know how many samples I've tasted in the last couple of weeks? - JW

Right, just coffee. - GL

Thanks - JW

 

"So, what did he do this time?"

"No, it was my fault, I've made him think that I don't trust him, or that I didn't really forgive him when he came home. I did, at least I thought I had. It was just, yesterday, it hit me, I finally understood how he could do what he did to keep me safe, but he took it the wrong way...and then I made him swear that he would never do it again, and he did, and I was so relieved it was like I fell in love with him all over again...and he noticed that I kissed him differently, or something...we haven't slept apart since the night he came home five years ago."

 

Please tell me he's with you? - SH

Yeah, he's here - GL

I'm almost there, please tell him I - SH

Tell him yourself, you idiot - GL

I deserve that - SH

No, you don't, you just need to sit and let him explain - GL

 

Two minutes later, he let a rumpled, out of breath consulting detective in the door. "Please don't tell me you..."

"...ran all the way here, yes. For once I couldn't find a cab...John?"

"Calm down, take a breath, he's afraid he blew it tonight. Sit and listen to him, yeah?"

Sherlock closed his eyes and calmed his breathing. "I went to apologise for being an arse and he was gone. I guess I had actually fallen asleep, and I didn't hear him leave. You have no idea what went through my head..."

"Yeah, yeah, I do. He feels like an idiot, just let him talk til he gets it all out, be patient, 'kay?"

"I will."

"I'm gonna go back to bed...just pull the door to when you two leave, yeah?" Sherlock nodded.

He walked into the kitchen and observed the man slumped over his coffee cup. The once golden hair was now mostly silver, the hand that clutched the cup was vibrating badly...

"You came?"

Sherlock nodded and made his way to the only man he would ever love; eyes rimmed in red, needing a box of kleenex, and wearing sweats and a t shirt under the crinkled suit jacket.

"Of course I did, I woke up and couldn't find you. I thought...doesn't matter what I thought...you weren't there and..."

"Shit, oh, love. Can I please hold you, I didn't think..."

"John, I'm so sorry, I was an idiot, I wasn't listening, I was hearing the words but not listening to you, if that makes sense. I guess I have been waiting for five years for you to let me have it, and you never have, you just took me home and loved me, and I didn't get it...I've been watching for any change in how you look at me or touch me, and yesterday, you seemed more at peace than you have since I've been home and I didn't understand..."

John put his fingers to Sherlock's lips. "I have never loved you more than I do at this moment. As I stood up for Greg and watched you stand for your brother, I saw what you have become, a gentle, loving brother and friend. And I finally understood how you could find the strength to leave for two years in order to save the people you loved most. I wanted you to feel it, and see it..."

"I did, John, it confused me, because you have never been anything but loving towards me since I've been back, but yesterday, it felt like you were trying to apologise for something, like you were asking for my forgiveness..."

"I was, I feel like I haven't loved you in the way you need me to. I was afraid you would take off, just leave me behind again. The first month after you came home, I barely slept because I was afraid you'd be gone if I blinked, but I tried...I tried to be what I thought you wanted. Forgive me, Sherlock?"

Sherlock took John into his arms and buried his face in John's hair. "You never needed my forgiveness, love. I am yours for as long as we both live. I have always been yours...since the day we met. Let's go home, yeah?"

John sighed and whispered, "Yes, love, home, please?"


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fluffy angst or angsty fluff...

They held hands as they took the long way home, silent at first, then Sherlock started speaking softly.

"There were days that weren't terrible, night skies that were lit up with stars, and I wanted to text you and ask how your day was. I wanted you next to me so badly, it physically hurt me more than anything they could ever hit me with. But, I couldn't risk losing you for real, so I would close my eyes and think of your tea, and the breakfast you'd always try to make me eat. I would listen for your shower to end and imagine you standing in front of the mirror sighing as you spotted new gray hairs, and I would fall asleep for a few minutes. I don't believe in God, John, but I believe in you, in us. As much as you don't want to hear it, I don't regret what I did, I had to do it, but I regret the pain and grief I left you with for those years, I never, ever expected you to want me when I returned. I was prepared for you to have left Baker Street, to have found someone else, to have moved on. And I would have let you go. I would have. But when I saw you there, clearing the weeds away from my stone, I knew. I saw you wore no ring, I saw the tremor was back, and you weren't even trying to control it anymore. I was afraid because I didn't know what you would say or do, I was more afraid that you would hate me than I was when I thought I was dying..."

"I could never hate you." John turned to Sherlock and raised his tear-stained face to look at the man who was letting it all go, finally. "You. You, had become my everything without me knowing it. But, I didn't think you...I wasn't sure...I heard it in your voice before you jumped, I knew then, and all I wanted to do was save you, I kept replaying that hour, that day, those last few days and I tried to think of what I could've said or done to change it. No, I know there was nothing I could've done. I know that now. But, back then, I would still make two cups of tea, listen for you to fly up the stairs to yell at me about a seven that always became a two; I would sit in your chair and put on that playlist you loved, and pretend you were standing at the window in that gown, wearing your pajamas, the t shirt turned inside out because the tag itched...playing your violin...for me..."

"John..."

"Love?"

"I'm starving."

"Me too."

Sherlock laughed, then stopped and wiped John's tears away. "We still have some cake samples we haven't tried out, they were delivered while you were dressing for the ceremony."

"As long as we have milk for my tea, bring it on..."

"Hmmmm, may need to stop for some on the way home."

"Some things will never change." John shook his head and reached up to pull Sherlock's face down to his and whispered, "I will never stop loving you, ever."

Sherlock sighed and kissed him until they couldn't breathe.

"Right. Milk...and...tea...and bacon, we need bacon, and pickles and bleach..."


	14. Chapter 14

Miss you - MH

Miss you too. You should not be in Paris without me. - GL

You'd be bored. - MH

How are Sherlock and John? - MH

You were right, they hit a rocky patch, but they have recovered nicely, they were bickering with Donovan at a crime scene today, then after her shift was over they took her out for a beer. - GL

How much longer? - GL

I'm hoping two days tops. - MH

It's so hard not sleeping next to you - GL

I know, love. Soon. - MH

 

"Chocolate."

"Chocolate?"

"We definitely have to have a chocolate cake, it can have white frosting and doodahs, but I want that fudgychocolate thing we had last night."

"Okay, okay."

"Shampoo, please?"

"Hmmm...oh...here...ohhhhh, John....a little harder, yeah..."

John laughed as he scrubbed the day from Sherlock's curls, and he hummed as he felt Sherlock relax into him. He rinsed Sherlock's hair, then wrapped his arms and legs around his partner and friend. 

"What are you thinking, John?" Sherlock had learned to ask since their last misunderstanding, instead of trying to read his doctor's mind.

"I'm thinking how much I'd like to get out of this bath, dry you off and take you to bed, but I'm really comfortable right now, and you feel so good against me that I think I want to stay here a few more minutes. Why, what are you thinking about love?"

"I'm thinking I want to elope..."

"What?"

"Kidding, I'm just kidding." Sherlock laughed then sighed as John moved his hands lower, and began finding those spots that made it hard to breathe. "Johhnnnnn, love, ohhhhhmmmmm, slow down..or I'm going to...damnnnnn...what you do to me, John Watson....no, I want everyone to see you stand up with me and put your ring on my finger and know, know that we belong together. I never thought..."

"Oh, love..." John held on to him, knowing what was coming.

"I was so alone for so long, I was beginning to think I was meant to be alone. Until that day...."

"Come on, love, you are turning into a prune, let's get you out, yeah?"

John got out and dried off, then helped Sherlock out of the tub, towel dried his hair and put his robe around his shivering shoulders.

John kissed his hand, and led him to bed, laying him out on his back. "Do you know how lovely you are? I am still amazed that I get to love you, kiss you, hold you and make love to you...I'm the lucky bloke who gets to hold you as you sleep."

Sherlock grabbed his hand and kissed it, "I need you, love. Just hold me? Please?"

John nodded, and laid down so their chests met, their growing hardnesses connected and he nuzzled Sherlock's neck. Sherlock wrapped his arms around his blogger and sighed. "Mmmmmm....I feel like we have already made our vows to each other, John. Over and over, we keep promising and loving and..."

"Shhh, I know. I feel the same way. I want to make a fuss over you, I want to claim you in front of everyone, give you that gift. I want to see you in that beautiful suit that you spent weeks fussing over, and I want to take it off of you bit by bit when we walk through that door as husbands."

"God, John, I love you so much."

"I know, I do, I know, love. I love you too, let's go to sleep, yeah?"

"Hmmm..."

John placed his hand over Sherlock's heart and closed his eyes. "I do love you in ways I don't think I'll ever know how to explain to you." He knew the man beneath him was sound asleep, but he needed to get the words out.

"Night, love."


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> finally some Mystrade...

Greg sighed as he put his key in the door, another long day of pushing papers and trying to keep Sherlock out of his hair. It had been 14 days, 9 hours, 56 minutes and he didn't know how many seconds, since he'd seen his husband and... wait... garlic... suitcase... umbrella...Myc...

"Myc?! Where are you?" He looked in the kitchen, he breathed in the scent of roasted chicken, and yes, the tiny potatoes with Rosemary...there was a salad and wine chilling...

"Myc? Love...?"

He slipped off his jacket and shoes and ran up the stairs to the bedroom to find his husband in his chair, one shoe off, his head propped up on his hand, snoring softly. "Oh, love..."

Greg knelt down to remove Mycroft's other shoe, and felt fingers running through his hair. "Myc..." He looked up and found Mycroft looking down at him. Greg took off Mycroft's socks, then placed his hands on his knees and looked into his husband's eyes, asking without a single word; Mycroft sighed and nodded. Greg stood and unbuttoned his shirt, letting it fall to the floor, then removed his vest, Mycroft took a deep breath, then whispered almost brokenly, "please, allow me." Greg nodded, and Mycroft stood, then placed a hand on Greg's chest, the other he laid against Greg's cheek, and he pulled him into a kiss. A kiss that spoke louder than any vow; it left Greg breathless and he whimpered as Mycroft pulled away in order to work on his trousers and pants. 

"Myc..."

"Mmmm?"

"What about dinner...ohhhhhmmm..."

"It's got another hour at least, love. I think that will give us enough time?"

"Goddddd yes, more than enough...especially if you keep doing....hhhmmmmm..."

"...that?"

"Mmmmm, yesssss..." Greg reached out to begin unbutton Mycroft's waistcoat, but his hands were gently pushed away. Mycroft shook his head and took Greg's hand and led him to bed. Mycroft slowly divested himself of waistcoat, tie, shirt, vest, trousers and pants. Greg was a mess by the time Mycroft finally slid into bed. 

As Mycroft straddled his thighs and began running his fingers over Greg's chest and down his sides, Greg whispered, "Myc...have I told you recently...how gorgeous you are?"

Mycroft stopped suddenly, looked at him, and shook his head, "No...no I'm not..." He dropped his head against his husband's chest and Greg wrapped his arms around him.

"You are, Mycroft Holmes, and I am a piss-poor lover and husband for not making sure you know it." He ran his fingers gently down his back taking his time until he felt Mycroft relax into him, then he rolled them so he was above his husband, looking into his eyes. Those remarkable eyes..."I've been dreaming of your beautiful eyes for these last two weeks...and your lips...and that spot right below your left ear..." He nuzzled and kissed and laid feather touches over the man that was now shivering beneath him.

"Gregory..."

Finally Greg simply laid flush against him, chests met, their hips and leaking cocks fit together as they always had, and they moaned together as the feeling almost overwhelmed them both. Greg lifted up a bit and wrapped a large, strong hand around them both and quickly found a rhythm that soon took his lover apart. He let go and held him through the last shudders, then closed his eyes as he felt Mycroft stroking him softly, then building until he finally let go, he almost sobbed as he came in wave after wave. 

They laid there in silence for a moment, Mycroft's arms wrapped tightly around him; then Greg sighed and pushed himself up to look down at the man beneath him.

"God, I've missed you."

"The feeling is entirely mutual. I think we have time for a shower before dinner, will you join me, husband?"

"Yes, love." Greg kissed Mycroft's palm, then offered him his hand.

 

"So, tell me, Sherlock and John?"

"Hmmm..." Greg took a sip of wine and nodded. "I think they had been careful with each other the last five years, ever since Sherlock returned; he was afraid John hadn't forgiven him, and John was always waiting for him to leave again. I think John finally realised at our ceremony that Sherlock wasn't going to leave him and that he truly loved him; Sherlock took the change in John as something else, and you know Sherlock, he has to stand back and try to sort things logically, but they have never been logical, have they? So Sherlock fell asleep on the couch, John needed air, and left the flat for a walk without letting Sherlock know..."

"Oh God..."

"John texted me a little while after you left, I got him to come over, then Sherlock texted me in a panic, looking for John...he ran the three miles from Baker Street. I was sure he was going to have a heart attack, but he calmed down, and they talked it out. They've never been happier, and I was serious when I told you they asked Donovan out for a beer after work a couple of days ago. She looked at them like they had lost their marbles, but sounds like they had a great time. They still bicker, but Donovan always bickers with everyone..."

Greg reached out for Mycroft's hand and touched his wedding ring, "I still have to remind myself that you are truly..."

"I know...I...wish..."

"No, Myc, please, we aren't doing this again...oh, don't, love." Greg got up from his chair and turned on the music, he fiddled til he found the song he wanted. "Please?" he held out his hand, Mycroft nodded and walked towards him. Greg leaned against him and felt Mycroft's arms slide around him:

"Wise men say only fools rush in  
But I can't help falling in love with you  
Shall I stay  
Would it be a sin  
If I can't help falling in love with you..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Can't Help falling in Love With You" Lyrics by Elvis Presley
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GhQp5wJyRUo


	16. Chapter 16

Sherlock startled awake, struggling to remember where he was until he felt John still sleeping against him. Ever since the night of their mis-whatever it was, he kept having nightmares where he couldn't find John. He ran his fingers through his curls, kissed John, and somehow slid out of bed without waking him up.

"Tea...just need some tea...and a shower."

 

Morning, Sunshine, got a case for you, interested? - GL

You're awfully chipper, your better half must have made it home, at long last. - SH

Last night, yeah, amazing what - GL

Send me the details of the case, don't need to know about the other - SH

Grumpy this morning, no tea yet? - GL

Not as yet - another nightmare - SH

You should tell him - GL

What good would it do? What, I just say, "John, it really scrambled my brain when you left that night, and I have nightmares where I keep losing you?" Yeah, not likely - SH

Tell him. - GL

 

He texted Sherlock the location of the crime scene and sighed. He understood why Sherlock didn't want to tell John about his dreams, but wished Sherlock would let those last walls down. Both he and Mycroft had so many fucking barriers built up against being happy and simple faith. Faith that they were loved...

"Sir-"

"Yeah, Donovan?"

"Got some witnesses that you should probably talk to..."

"Yeah, be there in a minute."

 

"Got a case, Lestrade thinks might be a good one." Sherlock had showered and made tea for both of them, before waking John up. He hoped his restless night didn't show on his face...

"What is it, love?"

Damn.

"Looks like a murder/suicide, but he's not sur-"

"Not what I mean and you know it, look at me, please?"

Sherlock sighed and put their mugs down on the table, and looked into John's worried eyes. "I've been having nightmares again. Uhm, I keep losing you...." He rubbed his face and tried to turn away.

"Ever since the night we ended up at Myc and Greg's?"

Sherlock nodded. John gently turned his face towards him, and shook his head. "I promise, I'm not going anywhere. Do you believe me?" 

"I do, honestly, I do, you just don't understand what it felt like when you - fuck, yeah, you do. Oh, John. John, I'm sorry."

"We will get past this, Sherlock, we have to. Text Greg and ask him to bring photos over later, yeah?" 

Sherlock kissed him lightly and left the room.

 

Can you bring photos over later? - SH

Of course. You told him. - GL

Dragged it out of me. - SH

Be over tomorrow morning, yeah? - GL

Thanks - SH

 

Sherlock turned off his phone and took off his coat and scarf, his jacket and trousers, and went back to their bedroom.

"Come here, please?"

Sherlock walked over to the bed, feeling at sea, unsure of what was being asked of him.

"John?"

"Just come here?" John patted the space next to him in bed.

Sherlock climbed into bed, and leaned into John's body, still warm from sleep, and took a deep breath. John held him in his arms and slowly unbuttoned his shirt.

"I love this colour on you, it makes your eyes seem like storms over an ocean..." He slipped the shirt from Sherlock's torso and tossed it on the chair. "I want you to close your eyes and just rest, love. We are not going to leave this bed for at least a couple of hours, then we will eat more wedding cake or take a walk, whatever you want, but for now, I just want you to sleep. I am not leaving you. I know you keep expecting me to, you still don't understand how or why I would want to be with you. I stay because my life began when I met you; I stay because I love your mind, your amazing human heart, and your transport; yes, your transport drives me around the absolute bend, your 'flaws' included. When I look in your eyes, I see nothing but your love for me sparkling at me, I want you to see the same in mine someday."

Sherlock rolled in his arms at this and kissed him fiercely. "I do, John, I swear I do. You are the only person in my life that has ever loved me by choice, and I still struggle to understand what I did to deserve it. No, let me try to explain. I always thought I had to work to deserve someone's love, I was never sweet, or cuddly, or adorable, ask Myc, he'll tell you. I always demanded answers, wanted to know everything and would talk out of turn, as I still do on occasion. I was never easy to love, and yet, you, somehow, you found something in me that you found worth loving..."

John kissed him softly on the forehead and let him keep talking until he finally fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.

 

They woke up six hours later, the mid-afternoon rainstorm beating against the windows. Sherlock stretched, then, without opening his eyes, reached for John's hand. Their fingers slid together and he sighed.

"Thank you, John."

"What for?"

"For being you, for not giving up on me."

"I can't give up on my heart, love. You are my heart, just took me a long time to know it, almost too long."

"John..."

"Hmmm?"

"Let's order tons of Indian food and watch some ridiculous, badly plotted telly?"

"Sounds perfect."

 

"Got things squared away yesterday, then?"

"Uhm-hmmm..." Sherlock flipped through the photos of yesterday's crime scene, "...you're sure the boyfriend has an alibi?"

"Does he have a twin?" John yelled from the kitchen as he made tea.

"It's never twins, John...you know that, just an easy plot device when the writer or writers can't write into or out of a paper bag..."

"Actually, he does have a twin..."

"Yer kidding." Sherlock looked up and glared at Lestrade.

"Nope, identical twin with a grudge and a record..."

"...but...?"

"In jail already..."

"Too bad."

"Yeah...we're trying to break the alibi, but I'm thinking the murder/suicide may be the correct solution after all. It just didn't sit right..."

"Because something stinks...I can't see it yet, but you're right, there's something wrong. We're fine, you were right, just needed to trust him, I'm not always good at that...thank you for..."

"Yeah, anytime." Lestrade looked at the younger man's face and nodded, "Anytime, you're my brother now...never had one before..."

"What'd I miss?" John carried in a tray of tea and the last samples of wedding cake, he hoped so anyway.

"George was complaining about the quality of his chosen brother-in-law."

Lestrade laughed as a broad grin broke over Sherlock's face. "Berk."

"Arse. Let me get my lens, I think it's something small we're missing."

"You two okay?"

"Yeah, you know how it goes..."

"Indeed I do. They are worth the work."

John took a sip of tea and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah they are."


	17. Chapter 17

It's time I take John home, I need to tell them about him. - SH

I can send a car - MH

Thank you - SH

 

"John?"

"Mmmph?"

"John."

John blinked and looked up into Sherlock's eyes, "What time is it?"

"Early, but I want to show you where we are getting married and it will take some time to get there. We have time to shower and eat breakfast before the car arrives."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I will be, you'll be there."

John nodded and knew this was something important, not exactly a test, but he needed to let Sherlock deal with it in his own way, he couldn't rush it. Sherlock kissed him gently, then asked, almost shyly, "will you join me in the shower?" This was new, even after being together for five years, they had never taken a shower together. 

"Of course, love, why don't you get it started and I'll join you in a minute, yeah?"

Sherlock kissed him again then left the room.

John closed his eyes and took a deep breath; he had let Sherlock make all the wedding decisions, it was more important to Sherlock how everything looked and smelled and tasted, and Sherlock understood that it didn't mean that John didn't care, it just meant John trusted him to make their day uniquely theirs. He didn't even know where they were going exactly. He knew he grew up in Sussex but they never talked about their parents or childhoods; he didn't bring his up because he left home at eighteen and never returned for reasons he tried not to recall. He had assumed Sherlock's childhood was similar, but he had never asked, mostly because he couldn't think he could handle Sherlock's reaction to his past, no matter what it happened to be. He had been through enough therapists and had learned to bury his past so deeply that he didn't want to burden the person he loved most with something he couldn't deal with himself.

"John?"

"Coming."

 

He stepped into the tub and reached out for Sherlock. "I'm here, John." Sherlock wrapped his arms around John and held him in a way that made him forget all the nonsense that had been running through his head. They took their time washing each other; to John it almost seemed like a holy thing, as if they were preparing to go on a pilgrimage and perhaps they were. As the water began to run cold, Sherlock turned off the shower and stepped out first, then offered John his hand. He dried John off, in silence with loving hands. He had never felt more adored or needed as he did at that moment.

"I..."

Sherlock smiled and nodded. "I know. I love you. Thank you for doing this with me."

John kissed him, then returned to their room to dress.

 

At seven, the car arrived. Sherlock was already pacing, watching out the window, then looking over the photos of their last case that was still unsolved. Then he yelled for John as he saw the car pull up at their door.

"Time to go..."

"I'm right behind you."


	18. Chapter 18

John got into the car, next to Sherlock, and waited. As they pulled away, Sherlock took a deep breath, then to John's surprise curled up in John's lap, and closed his eyes. 

"Love?" John placed a hand in Sherlock's curls and stroked them gently.

"I haven't been home in over twenty years, John, but it's the only place I want to marry you. We've never talked about our childhoods...I never saw any point to bringing up the subject because I deduced long ago that it was something that you would shy away from and as we became intimate, I understood why..."

John flinched and shook his head. Of course he had known, ridiculous to think otherwise...he started to pull away his hand, but Sherlock's next words allowed him to relax and he laid his fingers back into Sherlock's still shower damp hair.

"...I think you believe my early years were similar; you could not be more wrong. My parents were lovely, generous, brilliant human beings, they were probably the only people on the planet who could have raised Myc and me without losing their minds. My mother was a scientist and mathematician, my father an artist; a musician. They knew from early on that Myc and I were different, so raised us accordingly. I don't know what a 'normal' childhood was like, but I have learned that ours was extraordinary. From early on, we were given freedom to explore, freedom to fail, we had certain boundaries, and knew when we overstepped, but we always knew we were loved, which I believe is a gift few people are given."

Sherlock opened his eyes when he heard John whimper slightly. "Oh, John, I'm so sorry." He reached up a hand to wipe away a tear. John shook his head and smiled down at him sadly. 

"You were indeed fortunate, then." John sighed and looked away. They sat in silence for a few miles, until John spoke again. "My parents are still alive, or so I believe. I left home for Uni at eighteen and I never looked back. Once they knew I was gay, they didn't want anything to do with me. I tried so hard to be straight, you saw through it, but you never pushed me, and it was only after you had 'died' that I knew...fuck...I'm sorry."

Sherlock took John's hand in his and kissed it, then laid it on his chest, covering John's smaller one with his own larger one.

"You are the only family I need, Sherlock. The only family I want."

Sherlock sat up, and pulled John into his lap, and let his lover and friend sob silently against him, until he fell asleep. Eventually, the car hit the gravel driveway that indicated they had reached their destination.

"John, John? We are here, love."

John sat up slowly and stretched, then looked outside, he caught his breath and whispered, "that's where we're getting married?"

Sherlock laughed as he helped John out of the car. "No, that's the manor, we will be getting married in the chapel, thought you might be hungry-"

John didn't have a chance to respond as the door flew open.

"Sherlock!" A woman in her seventies ran out and threw her arms around him, before she recovered and extended her hand to John. "And you are Dr. Watson, I never miss one of your blogs. We are so happy you...I just wish...they would have loved you." John smiled and kissed her hand. She laughed in that way that Sherlock did when he was happily surprised.

"Aunt Lizzie, this is John. John, this is Elizabeth Holmes, she keeps the old place humming along. Mycroft called you, yes?"

"Of course, we have a room, and a nice cold lunch ready for you, if you'd like. Unless, you wanted to show John the chapel first?"

Sherlock looked at John and took his hand, "Lunch?"

"Please?"

Sherlock laughed and led him inside.


	19. Chapter 19

Sherlock watched John's face as he nearly stumbled up the stairs to the front door. He was still holding tightly to John's hand, as he wasn't sure he was ready to face his ghosts that lurked beyond the large engraved doors.

Elizabeth opened the door and shooed them inside, "Come in, come in, boys. John, I don't suppose your betrothed warned you about this at all."

"Erm, no. No, he didn't... he's always full of surprises."

"Yes, he is, isn't he? I could tell you some tales..."

"I bet." John smiled as Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Sherlock, you remember where the kitchen is, yes? Nothing has changed since..."

"Yes, which room are we in?"

"Hmmm, oh yes, I put you in the blue room, it has the beautiful morning light and the doors that open into the gard-"

"Lizzie- I'm sorry...." He let go of John's hand, walked over to her and pulled her into a hug. "I'm truly sorry, I just couldn't find a way to be here until now. Please forgive me?"

Elizabeth froze and looked at him in stunned silence for a moment before she recovered her voice. "Sherlock Holmes, did your good doctor finally teach you manners? You've never apologised in your life...oh, God, that was awful, I've missed you so much...No, I know why you stayed away. Mycroft comes once in a while when he wants to get out of the city. I like his Detective Inspector very much..."

"Lestrade's visited?"

"Oh yes, sometimes they have long weekends here when they can both find the time. Go get cleaned up, and lunch is ready whenever you want it, take your time. So glad you're home, sweetie." She returned the hug and rubbed her face, then gave John a hug and left them to themselves.

"You and Mycroft grew up here?" John whispered, finally taking in his surroundings. They stood under a gigantic, twinkling chandelier, and they were surrounded by old portraits, mostly old dead white men, with the occasional fancy lady in silks and lace.

"Yeah, the Holmes family has lived here for centuries, but Mycroft and I are the last of this line. Lizzie was my father's only sibling and she never married. Let me show you our room."

Sherlock walked as if stunned, he took in the old furniture, the fire in the fireplace; Lizzie always felt the cold more than most people. He almost expected his mother to come flying down the stairs to chastise him for not visiting sooner.

Somehow he found the right room. Lizzie had aired out the room and the scent of lilac almost overwhelmed him. He had forgotten how everything was stronger here, the scents, the sounds...

"She's right, it's a lovely room, Sherlock."

"Ummhmm."

"Love? Look at me. Take a deep breath, and look at me. I'm here, love."

Sherlock took a deep breath and sat on the edge of the king sized bed. "I haven't been home since before my parents died, John. Twenty-three years ago, they were killed in a car crash. I was finishing my degrees, I was 'busy'. Knee deep in experiments and writing and they couldn't find me. Mycroft answered the phone when I got out from under a week after the crash. I had missed the funeral. It was years before Mycroft forgave me, I still haven't forgiven myself yet. After the degrees were finished I disappeared until Lestrade found me...John, I don't know if I can do this, maybe this was a mistake."

John shook his head and knelt in front of him. "Tell me what you want to do, love. Are you hungry?" 

Sherlock shrugged. "I honestly don't know."

"Let's go to the kitchen, have a sandwich, a cuppa, then come back and we'll take a nap?"

Sherlock looked down at him and smiled gently at him. "Yes, love. At the very least, I'll have a cuppa and watch you eat two or three sandwiches while you charm the cook out of her relish recipe."


	20. Chapter 20

Sherlock led John to the kitchen, and Lizzie was right, nothing had changed over the last 23 years, except she was older as was their cook.

Mrs. Jolly glared at him through her specs and nodded. "Uhm-hmmm...at least you found someone who finally fed you up properly. And you, you are Dr. Watson. I've spent many a happy evening laughing over your stories. You do know you tend to over-romanticize our Sherly here, don'tya?"

"Please call me John, Mrs. Jolly." Sherlock sat at the long wooden table and rolled his eyes as he watched John work his magic on the usually decidedly un-jolly cook. He knew he was in for it, now. The stories he had long buried were burbling to the surface even as John was retelling the story of their trip to the Palace.

"In a sheet? SHERlock Holmes. What would your mum have thought?"

"She probably would have wanted proof and photos for her scrapbook, you know how she was." He said softly as he traced an old knife scar in the table.

"Luv, I'm sorry, I am right happy to see yer lovely self again. I just popped some of yer favourite biscuits in, not a lot of warnin' otherwise I woulda made you a special meal tonight."

Sherlock looked up and asked, "those chocolate ones? the thin crispy ones?" His eyes glittered and he got up from the table to join John at the counter. 

"Of course, luv. The least I could do, if you stay a couple nights, I'll make you a nice roast? Bet you don't get that much in the big city," she sniffed.

"No, not like yours, Ollie." He went behind her and wrapped his arms around her. 

"No one has called me that in years...now John, if you don't watch this one, he will eat a dozen biscuits straight outta my oven, caught him at it too many times and what would you say?"

"Jus' gettin' my fair share before ol' Fatty gets 'em all."

"You were a piece of work."

"He still is," John smiled as he winked at Sherlock, obviously delighted with this new version of the detective.

"Just you wait til his Aunty Lizzie gets out the ol' scrapbooks."

"Oh nooo..." Sherlock groaned as if mortally wounded.

"Oh yes," Elizabeth announced at the doorway, "right after dinner, and you are staying for the weekend, Mr. Famous Detective."

"Of course we are," John smiled as he grabbed Sherlock's hand and gave it a squeeze, promising to make up for the torture he was going to have to put up with as much grace as he could muster. 

Sherlock nodded and ran to the oven as the timer went off.

"What did I tell ya?" the cook laughed. "Don't forgit the mitts this time, ya idjit."


	21. Chapter 21

"They love you," John said simply as they finally climbed into bed after a two-hour dinner and three hours of photo albums. 

"Yes. Aunt Lizzie and Ollie were always there, my parents were lovely and patient, but they had their work that kept them a bit..."

"Preoccupied? Absent-minded? Like someone else I know?" John laughed and snuggled against him, kissing him softly.

"Hmmm, I may have inherited some of their more self-indulgent practices. But they also loved each other and us very much."

"I see that trait carried through to their youngest, I see how much you are like them, your eyes glittered in the candlelight, you were amused and trying not to laugh, even as you complained and argued tonight. You were happy here." John said thoughtfully.

"Yes. Yes I was. It was why I wanted to marry you here, this is the only place, outside of Baker Street where I was ever happy. And I wanted you to know my family, the people who loved me before you did..."

John sighed against his lips and whispered, "I do love you, more than anything, and as much as I want to scandalise the household, I'm so full and exhausted I can't keep my eyes open."

Sherlock kissed his forehead and felt John relax against him. Soon they were both asleep.

 

John woke up first, and he had to remind himself where he was. They were in Sussex. Sleeping in Sherlock's castle, well, close enough. Sherlock still slept on, and John recognised that he was probably going to sleep at least another couple of hours. John needed the loo and tea. Tea more than anything else. He washed his face, threw on his robe and slippers; Mycroft had sent over suitcases last night, with enough clothes to last them a week.

John managed to find his way to the kitchen by simply following his nose, the scent of bacon and scones made him breathe in deeply and wonder if he weren't still asleep.

"Mornin' Dr. John. Hope you slept well. Grumpy still in bed?"

"Yes, he is; smells amazing in here. Was he always awful in the morning?"

"When he slept, yeah. He went days without sleeping or eating, always working on some 'exper-"

"-iment. Still the same, unless he's completely exhausted, or has a cold and then he's..."

"impossible...still the same lovely git, then."

"Yes."

John sipped his tea and closed his eyes.

"Can I ask ya somethin', if it's too personal, ya don't have to answer."

John nodded, "Go ahead."

"What, I mean, when he 'died' how did you, hmm...how do I put this, how did you forgive him? I mean, not to be nosy, but by going by the blog and the papers, you two hadn't yet become more than friends when he..."

"We weren't, but we were close, I think if he hadn't had to go, we would've become more...earlier. How did I forgive him? When he came back, he found me clearing the weeds from the stone that Mycroft had put up. Not sure why he bothered getting it made let alone putting it in the ground...maybe so I had somewhere to talk, somewhere to grieve for Sherlock...dunno. But, Sherlock found me there...

 

" 'John...' "

" 'No. It's not you. You are dead.' "

"He cautiously touched me on my back, I think he was afraid I would hit him. The only time I ever punched him was for a case, at his request..."

"Ah, the sheet one..."

"The very same."

"He said very quietly, he couldn't speak louder than a whisper then, but I didn't know. 'John, please, will you turn around and look at me?' And I knew. I turned and looked at him, and saw the rest of my life. I saw my heart. I forgave him before he even asked me to."

Sherlock walked into the kitchen and took John's tea from his hands and placed it carefully on the counter. He took John's hand in his and kissed it, then kissed John's forehead. "Thank you. I never said thank you that day."

"What for, love?"

"For waiting, even though you didn't know you were, for caring enough to pick the weeds that grew around my name. You were the only one who did. For picking me up from the grass and dusting me off gently and taking me home."

"Sherly, love, you are a very lucky lad."

Sherlock nodded at John and kissed him lightly on the lips. "Hmmm, you made the currant scones, with the candied orange rind...and ginger? Yes, Ollie, I know how lucky I am." He grinned at John as he swiped the scone from his plate.

"Git." 

"Your git." 

"Yes, you are mine." John kissed him and stole half of his scone back. 


	22. Chapter 22

"All right, you lazy gits, who's up for going into town with me to go to the shops? I imagine Sherlock still breaks out into hives when..."

"I've picked up milk..."

"Exactly twice in the time I've known you..."

"Three times!" Sherlock grumbled from the depths of a leather couch.

"Let me grab my coat, Lizzie." John stood and stretched, then bent down to receive a kiss from Sherlock, who grinned mischievously as he yanked him into his lap and snogged him soundly.

"Mmmm...save that thought for later, yeah?" John murmured as Lizzie rolled her eyes. 

"Don't blow anything up while we're out, lovely boy." She blew him a kiss as they headed out the door.

"Did I ever...never mind..." Sherlock caught her kiss and returned it, then sat up and sighed. "Time to face the ghosts."

 

Are you all right? - MH

I'm fine...Lizzie and Ollie got old...everything else is the same - SH

Have you - MH

Not yet - SH

I'm around if you need to - MH

I know, I just have to deal with this, thank you - SH

 

He turned off the phone, launched himself from the couch and went to put on his coat and scarf. It was a cold, blustery day for late April, still muddy from the last storm, so he threw on some boots and pulled his gloves on.

The family cemetery was only a short walk from the manor, but he took a decidedly longish route. "Coward..." He whispered to himself.

 

"Ya never were a coward, Master William," muttered a voice next to him. "And knowin' what I know of ya, I reckon ya still ain't."

"Billy?" Sherlock grinned and turned towards the owner of the voice. He took off his gloves, shoved them in his pocket and put out his hand.

"The same." He pulled out his unlit pipe, took off his hat, and looked the younger man over for a moment, then shook the offered hand. "Ya ain't the same tho'. Got bigger and somehow got older, didnt ya... finally got someone to look after ya proper, hmm?"

"You might say that."

"Got some nice bunches in the greenhouse if yer visitin' them...and I'm workin' on somethin special for ya and yer doctor. Nuh-uh, it's a surprise, gunna have to trust ol' Billy."

Sherlock nodded and followed him to the greenhouse, where he'd spent much of his childhood. He walked in and was almost leveled by the scents he thought he had forgotten. Billy's tobacco, sweet, black cherry; the herbs he always grew- basil...all different types, thyme, rosemary...he plucked a sprig and rubbed his fingers together and breathed it in; the flowers, god, the flowers...somehow Billy always managed to grow the most beautiful, fragrant...

"Here, she always loved the freesia and the white lilac and her rosemary...Miz Liz tol' me ya was comin' so put 'em together fer ya." Billy turned and fussed with some plants, picking at dead leaves that weren't there.

"I...uhm..."

"Ya owe me no 'pologies, Master William. I knew how close ya were. 'Tis what it 'tis, they were grand folk..."

Sherlock nodded and laid his hand on Billy's shoulder, then picked up the flowers and headed for the cemetery.


	23. Chapter 23

"You're awfully quiet," Lizzie commented as they drove into town.

"Hmmm...just rearranging things." John ran his fingers through his hair and yawned.

"He really gave you no hint about his parents, how he grew up?"

"No. I, uhm, had a different upbringing if you want to call it that, I think he never asked partly because he could tell, but also because he wasn't ready to go home yet, and things were always so..."

"Crazy?"

"That's a word, yeah. From day one, life has always been different. We went from case to case, then Moriarty, then...and then he came back...and...yeah...crazy is the word. It just didn't matter where he came from in our every day life, and we try not to look back too much, because then we would have to deal with..."

"Understood. Is he, okay, I mean from when he was away?"

"Yeah, physically, he has scars, and sometimes his knee will give out, but he's healed in that way. Emotionally, it still takes work, once in a while something will trigger a memory, and he'll stay in bed for a couple of days. But, most days, he's lovely and thoughtful, except for shopping and stealing my jumpers, swiping my laptop because he's too damn lazy..."

"You love him." She nodded, a statement more than a question.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do." She reached over and patted his knee.

"I know. I can tell how you look at him. And how he looks at you, when you aren't looking in his direction..."

"What?"

"His eyes turn soft. Not sure how else to explain it. The first time I saw it at dinner, I almost dropped my fork. He's always been hard, not many people get through the walls he's built, but you did. You have no idea how happy it makes me that both my boys found people who understand them as you and Greg do. They are capable of such love, but at the same time, they have so much internal, I don't know, garbage, I guess is the word, that shuts out the light. You were able to get past all that somehow..." She stopped, afraid she said too much. "Sorry, I don't usually blather on like that, just glad they don't have to go through life alone...hmmm." 

"You are not alone, anymore, we will have you visit us in London, we have a spare room, and, we will come spend weekends here..."

"Don't make me promises..." She shook her head as she pulled over.

"Look at me, Lizzie." She looked at him through watery eyes.

"Now that I know, we will be around, and you will come to London, even if I have to learn how to drive and come pick you up myself."

Lizzie sniffled and laughed. "Seriously, you never learned how to drive?"

John shook his head. "Get enough wine in me some day and I'll tell you why."

"Shit, I'm sorry, John. Shops. Right. Now...what will Sherlock eat these days?"

"As long as it's on my plate, he isn't too picky."

"What an arse." She blinked and started the car again.

"But he has such a lovely one." John muttered under his breath. "Damn, I said that out loud..."

Lizzie laughed and got back into traffic. "I won't tell him you said so."

"He knows, the arrogant sod...why do you think he wears clothes that are half a size too small for him?"

She laughed again and shook her head. "We won't take too long, just need a few things and then we'll head back, yeah?"

John nodded, wondering what Sherlock was up to.

 

You okay? - JW

I'll be better when you get back. - SH

Won't be long, promise. - JW

I love you. - SH

I love you, too, yeah? - JW


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yeah...angst...just a bit...

He almost funked it. His knuckles gripped the flowers so tightly, he knew he was crushing them.

"Breathe, damnit. Just breathe. John is at the shops, he will be back soon. You are just doing what you should have done half a lifetime ago. C'mon, damnit."

They were easy to find, still the newest stones in a cemetery full of ancient names, their names and dates could still be read clearly. He dropped to his knees and traced the names with his fingers.

"Charlotte..."

"Rose..."

"Holmes."

His father had always called her Rosie, a silly name for a brilliant mathematician, but it was her name. He hoped John saw the look in his eyes that his father gave his mum, always when she wasn't looking at him. But, she knew. She always knew he loved her. Each night, he would bring her a flower or a book, something that meant more than what it was, it meant something simply because he knew she would love it.

This was why he had stayed away. He lay down even as he felt the rain fall, trying to get closer to them, he supposed. The memories flowed over him and through him, god, he missed them. So much. It felt like his heart was breaking. He had never understood what people meant by that, he thought he knew now. He turned on his phone and was about to call John, he needed to hear his voice, when a text appeared.

 

You ok? - JW

I'll be better when you get back. - SH

Won't be long, promise. - JW

I love you. - SH

I love you, too, yeah? - JW

 

He managed to sit up, wipe his eyes on his drenched and muddy sleeve, then cleared his throat. "Hmmm...yeah, well, I'm home. I came home because I'm getting married. You'll meet him soon, he...mmm....saved my life the day after we met. Didn't know I needed saving. You always said I'd meet him, someday, I just had to be patient. You were right, as always. Damn it, it's starting to pour again. I'll bring him to meet you when this clears up, he's out at the shops with Lizzie. Of course she and Ollie love him. I know you would've loved him too. I wish...damn...it doesn't matter what I wish. I have to go inside, he hates it when I sit in the rain, he actually cares if I get wet or catch a cold. Yeah, he also makes me eat and sleep...at least he tries. Hmmm. I'll be back out here tomorrow with him, hopefully the sun will cooperate. I love you and miss you in ways I didn't think possible..."

He stood and shook the rain from his hair, touched their stones, then turned back towards the house. He went in the back door, removed his boots, lining them up with the other pairs of ancient shoes, galoshes and other boots; took off his coat and scarf and hung them up on hooks in the mud room, then went into the kitchen to start a pot of tea.

"Sherlock Holmes! Out in this rain? You go to your room and get dry this minute, I'll bring a tray. What will your Dr. John say, if you catch a cold?"

"Ollie..."

"Go. Now."

"Yes, Ma'am." He tried to grin at her and she realised what he'd been doing outside.

"Oh, sweet boy. I'm sorry. Shoulda guessed, ya needed time with them before...go on, I'll be there shortly, yeah?"

"Thank you, Ollie, you are the best." He kissed the top of her head, and ruffled her curls. 

"Git! Go! Skedaddle...."

"I'm going, I'm going! You have more of those biscuits hiding somewhere?"

"Of course!" She pointed a chubby finger towards the direction of his room.

He laughed and skedaddled.

 

Two hours later John and Lizzie stomped through the back door, laughing as they carried in the first load of bags. John was about to go out to get more from the car when Mrs. Jolly looked at him.

"What? Where is he?"

"He's in bed, asleep. He visited his parents while you were out. I'll help Lizzie get things put away, go be with him."

John nodded and slipped off his shoes and quietly walked into their room.

He got out of his wet clothes and found a towel to dry off with.

"John?"

"Yeah, love, shhhh, I'm here."

John climbed into bed and pulled Sherlock against him. He didn't have to ask how he was, as the tears started falling quietly in streams. He didn't say a word, just held on.

"I didn't know, John. I thought I knew, but I didn't have a clue, how it was going to feel. I just wanted to sink into the ground next to them, god - I miss them so much, John."

John kissed the top of his head and just held on.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy fluff...

John held him, but had no words to comfort him with. He had been through something like this just once in his life, and it was after Sherlock had died. It wasn't the same, not even close. All he could do was wait and see what was needed. 

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Sherlock took a long, deep breath and blew it out. He sat up, pulled away from John and looked down at him. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do with all these feelings, John. It feels like I'm imploding and exploding at the same time. I'm afraid to go to sleep, but I'm so tired; I'm starving, but I don't think I can eat anything. Do you know what I mean?"

John nodded. He knew exactly what he meant. He reached up and pushed a damp curl from Sherlock's eyes, and whispered, "Yeah, love, I know. We could just stay here, or take a bath, or go in the kitchen and have a big bowl of ice cream. Lizzie and I bought some from that place..."

Sherlock's eyes lit up and he nodded. "Ice Cream. Please?"

"Then a bath, yeah?" Another nod, then Sherlock looked down at his hands.

"How did you..."

John shook his head. He laid a finger against Sherlock's lips."I can't, love. It wasn't the same. Let's go eat, yeah?" 

"I'm sorry, John...I...I feel like I should be able to...I don't know how to fix this." 

"We aren't broken, love, there is nothing you have to fix, we are together, I am here for whatever you need. I wish I could wave a magic wand and unbreak your heart, all I can do is be here, for you. You don't owe me anything. Do you understand?"

"No, but, maybe some day I will." Sherlock bent down and pressed his lips to John's. "I don't have the words that I should be able to say to you...except, thank you. Thank you for just being you."

"Ice cream?"

"Please?"

"Let me get up first and then I'll help you, yeah?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but then bit his lip. "Uhm-hmm."

"It's okay, love, please, let me?"

"Chocolate Chocolate Chip?"

"What else?"

John slid out of bed and into his robe, then found Sherlock's dressing gown and walked over to his side of the bed, holding it out for him."Take it slow, yeah?"

Sherlock carefully put his feet on the floor and pushed up to standing, then turned to slide his arms into the time-worn garment. He tied the belt around himself, slipped his arms through John's, and leaned against him.

"It will be okay, right? Somehow?"

"Some day, it will hurt less, or maybe just hurt differently, does that make sense? Right now, all I ask of you is to be here with me. I can't truly say I know how you are feeling, but, I do know how easy it would be for you not to feel what you are feeling at this moment. Let's go eat, then have a bubble bath, and go from there?"

Sherlock blinked up at him and whispered, "I think I can handle that." He kissed John softly and looked him in the eyes for a long moment, until he saw that light reflected back at him. "Oh."

"Yeah. Oh."

"Did you get sprinkles?"

"And whipped cream, and cherries."

"You do love me."

"Yup."


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizzie and Myc have a chat...and a bit of Mystrade in the night.

"Myc! How is everything, sweetie? How is Gregory?"

"We are fine, Gregory is excellent." Mycroft looked down at his husband fast asleep against him, and covered the hand that was resting against his chest with his own. "I'm calling to see how Sherlock is, I know it could be...stressful for him...hmmm...do you think I should, I mean, should we come and...?"

"No, John is doing remarkably well, he knows how to distract him and push him at the right times. He is..." Lizzie watched as John fed Sherlock another spoonful of ice cream, then kissed him softly and smiled.

"...quite a suitable match for my brother, yes. Good. He isn't giving you and Mrs. Jolly any trouble, then?"

"No, dear, he has changed considerably since the last time he was here, of course that is to be expected..."

"Of course."

"He is so much like your father, I had forgotten...I am just thrilled he has someone that loves him and doesn't let him get away with much, and John reminds me so much of Rosie, somehow...damn, it's been so long, Myc. I had managed to let them go, and now I'm missing them..."

"Lizzie, I'm sorry."

"No, it's good, Myc. I missed being able to think about them, we got out the albums and Sherlock let me fuss over him for a few hours after dinner last night-"

"What?!"

"I know, threw me for a loop, too, at first. I know it was because he wanted John to know who they were, but he really let his guard down and he just watched John as we talked through the snaps...it was lovely, never thought I'd see him that at peace, contented." 

She turned and looked over at John and Sherlock again, as Sherlock placed his hand against John's cheek and simply looked into his face, then John took his hand and kissed it, then nodded.

"Lizzie - we just washed everything up, we're headed to bed. See you in the morning."

She smiled and blew them kisses. "Lizzie?"

"Oh, Myc, sorry. Sherlock just did something Rosie used to do when she knew your father was tired, and ready to turn in...damn...it's late, I need to go to bed, too. I just wish they were here to see...ah...sentiment."

"Good night, Lizzie, sleep well."

"And you, Myc. Night, night."

 

"Love?" Greg yawned.

"Hmm...? Oh, Gregory, I'm sorry, just wanted to see how they...all right, how Sherlock was doing being back home. I wasn't sure it was the best place to hold the wedding, but I was wrong it seems. I think they are finally going to be okay. I didn't know if they were strong enough...I'm glad to be wrong for once."

Greg looked at him and Mycroft whispered, "how did I get so lucky...?"

Lestrade shook his head, "I'm the lucky one, love. Now turn off the light, you need some sleep, yeah?"

Mycroft stifled a yawn and reached over and turned off the light.

"I love you."

"I love you more."

"Nope, not possible."

"Go to sleep."

"Make me..."

"Is that a challenge, Mycroft Holmes?"

Mycroft giggled. "No....not...don't you dare...Gregory!"

"Do you give?"

"No...ohhhh...damnnnnn....Greg-"

"Love?"

"Please?"

"Roll over."

"Yes, love."


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bubbles with added fluffy angst...more fluffy than angst

John ran the water and added some bath gel...somehow Mycroft had known they would need it.

He looked in the mirror and sighed another grey hair or two or thirty...

"Silver, and it makes you look -"

"Don't you dare say 'distinguished' or I'll..."

"I was going to say 'even more beautiful than the day we met.' " Sherlock wrapped his arms around John and kissed his shoulder, then sighed as John leaned into him.

"Hmmm...bath's just about ready..."

John slid in first, then offered Sherlock his hand and helped him into the tub, settling him in front of him, together they took a deep breath and breathed it out again. John wrapped his arms and legs around Sherlock and began speaking into Sherlock's curls."While you were gone...I had dreams like this...they were worse than my nightmares of Afghanistan, because they were so real, you would never speak, but you would take my hand and press it against your heart, and I would feel it, feel your heart beating against my fingers..."

Sherlock moved John's hand to his chest and covered it with both of his. 

"...I would try to hold you tighter, so you wouldn't leave, and that's when my alarm would go off...and I...god, there were days...when I didn't think I could do it anymore. But, I got up, and made tea and showered and dressed and made myself go to work...made myself go home and eat dinner and go to bed and try not to dream of you, but the nights when I couldn't dream of you were worse."

He stopped talking, grabbed a flannel and sat up so he could wash Sherlock's back.

"Berlin...Egypt...New York..."

"Johnnnnn..."

"...Kiev...Mexico City...Serbia..."

"I wish you had taken me with you...I could've helped you, at least sewn you up better than whoever did this to you...I never asked you to...I know you didn't feel like you had a choice. I wish you had called me, just to, just to let me know you were still...I'm sorry, please forgive me, love." He kissed one of the few perfect spots that remained on his back then fell silent.

Sherlock turned in his arms and held John's face in his soapy hands and shook his head. "No, please, John." He kissed away the tears then kissed him gently. He stroked his face and spoke in a hoarse whisper, "I loved you too much even then, even before I knew you loved me in return, to ask you to...I didn't know if I was going to make it back to you, but I couldn't have survived if something had happened to you when you could have been safe at home, safe and grieving, possibly, but at least I knew you were safe and alive. That is what kept me going, knowing you were alive." 

John pushed the damp curls away from his eyes and pulled him back into a long, breathtaking kiss."Let's go to bed, yeah?"

Sherlock nodded and climbed out of the tub, and helped John stand and step out on to the bathmat. They dried each other off, slowly and reverently, then hung up the towels and stood quietly, barely breathing. John moved first, reaching out to press his hand flat against Sherlock's chest. 

"I'm here, John." Sherlock whispered. "I'm here, love."

"I know. I know, Sherlock, but I still have moments even after five years when I wonder. I know it's ridiculous...I wonder if this is just a dream I'm walking around in, and one day, I'll wake up..."

"I'm real, love. I promise. Let me take you to bed and I'll show you. Then you'll fall asleep in my arms, and I'll hold you all night, and I'll be there when you wake up."


	28. Chapter 28

John was dreaming again, that same damn dream. But this time when he forced himself to open his eyes, he found Sherlock sound asleep beneath him, his lanky arms around him, his elegant fingers resting gently between his shoulder blades. He sighed and pushed himself up in order to observe the man he loved beyond logic and reason.

The dark curls were getting overlong again, and though Sherlock groused about the length, he loved it when John would spend hours running his fingers through them. John rarely got to see Sherlock's face at rest, and in this morning light, it almost glowed, his worry lines faded, even the famous cheekbones seemed to lose their edge. He stretched out next to him and watched as the lips he loved to kiss broke into a smile. Sherlock reached for him and whispered softly before he opened his extraordinary eyes. "What do you see, love?"

"I see you. I wish you knew how beautiful you are."

"If I am, it is because you make me so." Sherlock rolled and pressed into John so he was resting flush against him; they both lost the ability to breathe for a moment as their bodies melded together. "John..."

"Sher-"

John ran his fingertips down Sherlock's spine, no longer feeling for the scars, simply noting the solid, wholeness of the man above him. He swore silently to himself and to Sherlock that he would never name the scars again, naming them gave them too much power, reminded them of a time best left in the past. Sherlock whimpered softly as John's hands came to rest on his hips. They rested for a moment, both afraid to move, then John thrusted up against Sherlock, wanting, needing to be closer. Sherlock sighed, and moved to meet him. "I am here, John. I am yours, have been yours since...oh Johnnnn..."

John rolled them again so he could see Sherlock's face. "Open your eyes, love. I need to see your eyes....yes, there you are." The bright eyes looked up at him, blown to slivers of blue-green. They kept their eyes on each other as John slowly took his love apart, inch by beautiful inch until tears rolled down both of their faces, and they came with seconds of each other.

John kissed him then grinned. "Shower, then tea and toast?"

"And sausages and eggs, I do believe?" John breathed in the morning air and nodded. 

"I do believe you are correct, Mr. Famous Detective. God, I'm starving!"

"Not surprising considering our last meal was a few bowls of ice cream, and with all of that uhm...aerobic exercise...we probably burned most of those calories last night."

"Shower." John growled as he kissed him soundly.

"Yes, love."

 

Lizzie looked up from her paper as they entered the kitchen, hand in hand. She watched as Sherlock guided John to his seat, then poured out tea for both of them. John caught her eye and winked. She wanted to laugh and hug them both, but instead she put the paper down and made them one huge plate of breakfast, knowing Sherlock would ignore anything placed directly in front of him. 

"The rain has finally ended," she said conversationally as she returned to her seat. "Just in time for your trip home..."

"Uhm, about that, Lizzie...." Sherlock said between bites, "...we were thinking we might stay a couple more days...if it wouldn't be a bother?"

She jumped up from her seat and in a decidedly un-Holmesian manner, kissed them both on their cheeks, then sat down next to them. "Of course it wouldn't be a bother."

Sherlock laughed and gave her a hug, then looked down into his tea, his voice changed. "I don't know how I stayed away so long, Lizzie. Will you ever forgive me?"

She sighed, tilted his face up, then pushed an errant curl from his eyes, "You know I do. Eat up, your eggs are getting cold. It's laundry day, I will see you boys for lunch. Shepherd's Pie...?"

"Yes!" They shouted in unison and they all tried not to laugh, but failed miserably.

"Okay, then, I'm off, just throw anything you need washed outside your door, yeah?"

They finished breakfast and each had a second cup of tea. Sherlock took John's hand in his and said quietly, "I promised I would introduce you when the rain stopped. Will you come with me, please?"

John nodded and kissed him gently, "Yes, of course I will."


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> extra, extra, extra, fluffy, and no, I'm not sorry <3

They found boots in the mudroom and put on their coats, for although it had stopped raining and the sun was shining, it was still a bit on the chilly side, and the mud squelched beneath their steps.

This time Sherlock took the direct route; with his hand wrapped tightly around John's, he no longer hesitated as he strode towards the cemetery. When he once again stood in front of their stone, he took John's hand in both of his and cleared his throat. "I know this may seem illogical, somewhat on the mystical side, but, uhm...Mum, Dad, this is John. 

Mum, you told me there was someone out there who would love me for me, including my flaws which, as you know, are many. John is intimately aware of all of them, and has agreed to marry me anyway. 

Dad, when you placed my first violin in my small hands, when I was three, you told me someday that I'd have someone to play for, someone to love, someone who would always listen. I didn't know what you meant then, and as I got older, I lost the faith that there was someone for me. But, as usual, you were right."

Sherlock looked into John's warm, smiling eyes, and nodded. "I found him, or he found me, we found each other. Somehow, in a world I always thought so dark, I discovered a conductor of light. He has guided me home."

John tried to blink back the tears that were forming; there had been too many tears in the last few days and weeks. He looked up, hoping for rain to hide in, but found only a bright, almost neon blue sky above him. He rubbed his face with his available hand and began in a quiet voice:

"I am, to be honest, a fan of Bond movies. I loathed those overly simplistic, sappy, and silly romantic comedies that were all the rage when I was younger. I never believed in soul mates or love at first sight, or 'meant to be.' I was never told there was someone special for me, because there wasn't really anyone around who thought I deserved a love like that. But, I knew, I knew the moment I met your son, that I had met my match in all ways. He was and continues to be to this day, a brilliant, gorgeous, smart-arse who seemed to think I was something more than a broken down former military surgeon with anger issues and PTSD. He always says that I saved him, but he, in his own peculiar fashion has rescued me time and time again. I wish that you could see and know the man your son has become. He is remarkable." John shook his head as he felt Sherlock begin to turn away. "No, love, look at me, please?"

Sherlock turned slowly and met John's eyes. "John..."

John knelt before him in the mud and held both of Sherlock's hands in his and took a deep breath. "I know we aren't getting married for a couple of months, but I need to make sure you know this, once and for all. I will always listen to you, even when I don't understand half of what you say; I will always love you especially on those days when you feel like the least lovable person on the planet; and I will never, ever leave you, I intend to spend my last years on earth by your side."

Sherlock fell to his knees and laughed. "Lizzie is going to have a fit when she sees our knees...but I don't care. I love you, John Watson, more than I ever thought possible, you utterly ridiculous man."

"Your utterly ridiculous man. No one else would take me now, I belong to you and to you alone, Sherlock Holmes."

"And I am yours, John Watson."

 

Mrs. Jolly was sweeping out the kitchen when she saw them kneeling in the mud kissing. "Lizzie! Lizzie Holmes, get yer skinny arse out here, you don't want to miss this!"

"Olive- what are you on ab- what on earth? What are those crazy boys doing?"

"I think they just got themselves married, Lizzie. That big do Sherly is planning is just for show and to throw the village the biggest party they've ever seen. Those boys are as married as they are ever gonna be."

Lizzie nodded in agreement. "I promised them Shepherd's Pie for their lunch, I need to get a start on it."

"Lemme help, we should give 'em a wee bit o' privacy." She swept the dust out the doorway, then gently shut the door.


	30. Chapter 30

Greg looked down at the tattoo again, the elegant lines and curves of the violin, his initials etched into Mycroft's back. He sighed, pressed his lips against it, and smiled as Mycroft moaned above him. He heard the rattle of paper, a brief smattering of fingers flying across a phone, then silence. 

"Apologies, Gregory. Just needed to catch up on some odds and ends."

Greg popped up from beneath the covers and removed first the papers from Mycroft's hand, then waited patiently, until the phone was in his hand. "I thought we agreed: 'No crumbs or overtime in bed?'" 

Mycroft whispered as he reached for him, "won't happen again, I promise." 

"Myc..." As long as he could remember, there was something about Mycroft's voice, that brought every thought in his head to a screeching halt. It had happened the first time they had met, and though the voice had deepened and mellowed with age, it still had the power to...

"You're thinking too loudly...but at least it's about me, so I suppose I shouldn't complain." Mycroft swirled his tongue around an already hardening nipple as Greg whimpered and held on to his hips tightly enough to leave an impression, or two. Mycroft looked down at him and ran his fingers through the silver hair and considered how remarkable it was that he of all people was allowed to be at this man's side. Not just once in his lifetime, but twice. He laid his head down against Greg's chest and breathed him in. The distinctive scent of the Yard, the coffee, the occasional cigarette, the dust and heat of London, and something sweet and spicy, he could never figure it out completely. Greg's arms folded around him and they breathed out together.

"Now who's thinking too much, hmmm?" Greg laughed quietly.

Mycroft sighed contentedly and whispered, "just considering how bloody lucky I am to be with you. Tha's all."

"The feeling is absolutely mutual, love. Go to sleep, yeah?" Greg reached over and turned off the lamp, then resettled his arms around him. Mycroft sighed and relaxed against the man beneath him as he felt calloused fingers dance lightly over the tattoo, their nightly ritual of remembering and forgiveness.


	31. Chapter 31

They made their way back to the house in silence, side by side, sure of each other without needing to touch, both had their hands shoved into their pockets, lost in their own thoughts. Boots, coats and scarves were discarded in the mud room, and Lizzie sighed and rolled her eyes at them.

"Go get cleaned up, both of you, lunch will keep." She shook her head but smiled as she watched Sherlock finally reach behind him, knowing John's hand would be there, waiting for him.

Sherlock turned the shower on and reached to undo his buttons; John stilled Sherlock's fingers on his shirt, and waited for permission. Sherlock nodded and John felt a shiver run through them both as he began to unbutton the indigo silk shirt, taking his time, feeling the strong muscles tense, then relax under his hands; they both watched as it fluttered to the floor. John yanked his jumper over his head, then reached for Sherlock's hips, pulling them together.

"John-"

"Mmmhmmm..."

"Just hold on to me for a minute, I feel a bit-"

"...floaty?"

"Uhm-hmm."

"I know. I'm here, just...there..." John closed his eyes and held them up, waiting until they both felt a bit more solid. "Shh...I'm here. Let me finish undressing us, and we'll get cleaned up. I can smell the Shepherd's Pie, and there will be tea, yeah?"

He felt Sherlock nod against him, then John stepped back and carefully peeled Sherlock's muddy trousers from him, with his pants and socks. He removed his own wet clothing and stepped under the water; he heard more than saw Sherlock slip in behind him, then felt the lanky, deceptively strong arms fold around him. They stood together, barely breathing, just allowing the water to flow over them.

"Hungry?"

"Uhm-hmm..."

"I'm going to turn off the water, then we're going to get dried off, get dressed, then go into the kitchen. We will eat, then help with the washing up, and then I'm going to take you to bed, and make love to you for the rest of the afternoon, or at least until we fall asleep with your gorgeous body entangled with mine. Sound like a plan?"

"Sounds perfect."


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nat King Cole
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GfAb0gNPy6s

"...In a restless world  
Like this is  
Love is ended before it's begun  
And too many moonlight kisses  
Seem to cool in the warmth of the sun..."

Mycroft and Sherlock watched between the railings as their father spun their mum around the room, Nat King Cole on the turntable, the lights were off except for a couple of candles and...

"Boys!! What are you doing?" Lizzie whispered at them. "You have your first day of school tomorrow, Sherlock, and Mycroft...?"

"Sorry, Aunt Lizzie, I heard the music and it's my favourite song. Just wanted to watch them-"

"Bed, boys."

Lizzie quietly marched them back to their rooms, first tucking Sherlock into his bed. "Why do they dance like that?" He whispered, looking intently at her face.

"Because they love each other very much and like the same music. Some day if you are very, very lucky, you will find someone who loves you just as much, and maybe they will dance with you like that."

"I don't think so, Aunty Lithhie."

"Why not, Sherlock?"

"I'm too skinny and I have a weird face and...I don't know how to dance."

Lizzie tried not to smile at him, "You are perfectly lovely, Sherlock Holmes, try not to listen to those awful brats at school with no manners; and if you like, I'll start teaching you how to dance tomorrow when you get home from school?"

"Oh, would you, pleathhe, I mean, please, Aunty Lizzie, I would love- uhm, I would appreciate that very much."

"Yes, now, go to sleep it's late. Night night, sweet boy."

"Night, night."

Lizzie shut the door and went into Mycroft's room who was well past needing tucking in, but she still checked in on him every night to put away whatever book he had fallen asleep reading and to turn off the light.

"You shouldn't get his hopes up like that, Aunt Lizzie."

"What do you mean, Myc?"

"He's smarter than all the kids he knows, hell, he's smarter than most of the adults we know, he finds it hard to make friends, that lisp doesn't help...you remember that time-"

"Yes, of course, but, dear, he's five, yes, a very different kind of five, but he's very sweet and kind once he gets to know people, and the lisp will go away in time. Don't you think you will find someone?"

"Not like what mum and dad have. I'm uhm, gay, Aunt Lizzie..."

"Yes, dear, I know...and?"

"And? They don't let gay people get married...and if I want to have a career, I probably can't be with someone I love anyway..."

"You just turned thirteen, Mikey, maybe things will change, I hope they will."

"You don't think it's wrong that I'm attracted to boys?" Mycroft was afraid to meet her eyes.

"Look at me, sweetie." She laid her hand on his cheek. He lifted his face and blinked at her sad, yet fiercely hopeful eyes. "No, there is nothing wrong with being gay, it is just part of who you are. When you are older, and you find someone, and I said 'when' not 'if,' hold on tight to them, love, don't let them go."

"Sorry, Aunt Lizzie."

"Hmm?"

"You-loved someone once."

"Yes."

"And...they, you weren't allowed..."

"It was even worse back then. Someday, I'll tell you about her. Just know that I understand, Myc, and know that I do believe both you and Sherlock will find people who will adore and cherish you. I have to believe that, dear."

 

"When I fall in love  
It will be forever  
Or I'll never fall in love..."

"Dance with me, John?"

"You know I can't dance."

"I'll teach you."

"I'll step on your toes."

"Just look in my eyes, listen to the music..."

 

"...When I give my heart  
It will be completely  
Or I'll never give my heart..."

 

Lizzie sat at the kitchen table, with her evening drink and closed her eyes as she heard them not so gracefully attempt to dance in the next room. "I told you Myc."

 

"Eyes up here, don't look at your feet."

"I'll never get it."

"Yes, you will, just lean on me, John, like that. Try closing your eyes. Just hold on to me, love."


	33. Chapter 33

"Bugger...bugger...Bugger!"

Greg rubbed his eyes and gently laid his violin and bow back into their case. He went back to his desk and pulled up the photos from the latest crime scene. Nothing. He saw nothing. He closed his eyes and -

 

Gregory - MH

Hey, there. - GL

It's late here. - MH

Here too, love. - GL

I miss you. - MH

Yeah. - GL

Be home tomorrow. - MH

I'll pick you up. - GL

Not necessary - MH

Please, let me. - GL

Very well. I love you. - MH

I love you. - GL

 

Greg turned off his laptop and poured another drink. The case wasn't going well, at all. He had hoped Sherlock and John would be back soon, but they were spending a couple more days in Sussex. The music he was composing for John's gift was harder than he thought, it had been a long time, and Myc was out of town... it was impossible to sleep - 

buzzz buzzz

Damn it, what is it now?!

buzz-

"What!?"

"Gregory?"

"Oh, Myc, sorry, long day, thought you were going to bed."

"I just wanted, no - I needed to hear your voice."

Greg lay back in his chair and closed his eyes.

"Gregory?"

"Yeah. Sorry."

"Are you all right?"

"Have a case that I can't work out, and I'm working on the music for Sherlock and it's harder than I remember, and I can't sleep, bed is too big, and too empty without you. Talk to me. About anything."

"Are you in bed?"

"No. At my desk."

"Idiot, go get in bed, I'm not going anywhere. Are you wearing the new suit I got you last week?"

"Uhm-hmm."

"How does it fit?"

"Perfectly."

"Are you taking it off?"

"Uhm-hmmm..."

"Wish I were the one taking it off of you -"

"Myc -"

"Sorry."

"Tell me...tell me anything."

"Are you in bed?"

"Yes."

"The first time I saw you..."

"Uhm-hmmm?"

"...in that hole-in-the-wall..."

"mmmm-hmm..."

"...the first poem I ever performed for you-"

"Yeah?"

"I made it up on the spot. I had seen you walk in and sit by yourself. You lit a cigarette and sat back, so sure of yourself, so beautiful..."

"Myc...oh damn...keep talking, please?"

"I wasn't even going to do a reading that night, but I wanted to talk to you-"

"Across the room  
I don't even know your name  
where you are from..."

"You remember - "

"Of course I do...they were the first words you ever spoke to me...how could I ever forget?"

"I'm going to get an earlier flight, love, go to sleep. I'll be there when you wake up."

"I love you."

"Close your eyes and rest, I love you, Gregory."

"Your hair was so red back then, you were the single bright spot in my life...hurry home...do you know how hard it is to let you leave every time?"

"I'll be home soon, I promise."


	34. Chapter 34

Mycroft closed the door quietly, dropped his bag, and toed off his shoes. He followed the trail of clothes to the bedroom, and looked down at the man sprawled on the bed. He sighed and closed his eyes, he longed to spend the rest of his life simply wrapped up around him. He took off his jacket, tie and waistcoat, then glanced up to find his husband standing in front of him, and his mind went blank.

"Allow me, please?"

Mycroft nodded and closed his eyes as he felt Greg's fingers slowly undo his cuffs, then his collar. 

"Always so tightly buttoned up...I'm the only one who knows, the only one gets to see you."

"Gregory...please."

He felt him grin against his lips before he kissed him softly. "You've only been gone a night, one night, Myc..." His hands reached down to pull his shirt from his trousers, then his fingers went back to work on the buttons, and Mycroft wondered how he was still breathing, let alone standing upright.

"Shh...I have you." A strong hand led him to their bed, sitting him on the edge, and he opened his eyes to find Greg kneeling before him, removing his socks, then his hands worked quickly to remove his trousers and pants. He grinned up at him, before he stood and pulled Mycroft's t-shirt off, the last barrier between them. "There will never be a time when I will not want and need you, Mycroft Holmes. I never considered myself to be a jealous person, but I find I -"

Mycroft stole his words with a long, ardent kiss that spoke more eloquently than any sonnet could possibly ever express. He pulled Greg with him, as he toppled back on to the bed. It was all he could do not to spontaneously combust as their bodies crashed together.

"Myc..."

"I know, Gregory..." Mycroft murmured, "I know." He felt Greg press kisses onto his chest, then work his way down to his hips, and he lost track of anything until he felt strong, calloused fingers stroke him slowly and then soft, dry lips slipped over his head and -

"Love?"

"Hmm?"

"Do we have any plans that involve leaving this bed today?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

"Good."

Soon they had found their regular sleeping places, Greg on his back, Mycroft nestled against his chest, Greg's fingers resting against Mycroft's tattoo. 

"You never have any reason to be jealous, you know. You are the only one-"

"I know, I just hate having to share you, I know you need to be the one who does the- whatever you do, but, there are times when I just want to be able to stop by your office and ravish you across your desk-"

"Perhaps that could be arranged, let me check my schedule."

Greg laughed, a deep, rough, joyful laugh that Mycroft felt down to his toes and in his fingers.

"I adore you, Gregory Lestrade."

"Sleep, you."

Mycroft sighed as Greg stroked his hair and hummed a piece of music, soft and warm, until he fell asleep.


	35. Chapter 35

John woke with a start as his mobile vibrated on the bedside table.

 

"Hu-llo?" 

"Johnny?"

"Harry? What's happened?"

"Mum saw your announcement, the one in the Times. She showed it to me -"

John sat up wide awake and took a deep breath.

"John?"

"I'm still here."

"She wants to talk to you."

"I don't think that's a very good idea; in fact, I know it's a rotten idea and I can't believe you called to tell -"

"She left Dad."

"Seriously? When?"

"Last year. She finally understood, I guess. I don't know, honestly. She's been living in our cottage -"

"You and Clara -"

"Yeah, I finally got myself together - look, I know, you know I know. And she understands if you don't want to see her. Can she write to you?"

"I can't promise anything. But, yeah, if she wants to write I can't stop her. I don't know her, she doesn't know me - it might be too little, too late at this point. Shit. I can't do this right now, Harry." He covered his eyes for a moment, then felt Sherlock watching him, and he moved his hand away, almost surprised to see the loving concern in his lover's glittering eyes. John blinked and tried to smile at him, but failed.

"I'm sorry, I know, but I promised her I would try, just think about it, will ya? I love you."

John took a sharp breath in and bit his lip.

"I, uhm -"

"You don't have to say it back, just wanted you to know I do love you, you didn't deserve what they did to you -"

"Neither did you." 

"No, I know, but you got the brunt of it. Dad, he's still the same arse, just older and meaner, if you can imagine it."

"Yeah, somehow, I can. I have to go Harry. Sorry." He turned his mobile off, threw it on the table and waited.

"Sister?"

"Uhm-hmm."

"You're the oldest, by, four years."

"Three and a half. She always made sure everyone knew it was three and a ha- fuck. How much did you hear?"

"All of it."

"I don't want them there. Any of them. I just can't forgive everything, just because she finally opened her eyes. It's too late. I know -"

"You know, what?" Sherlock whispered back to him, very much awake now.

"You think I should."

"Should what?"

"My parents, my childhood - I can't begin to try to explain - when I left, I was angry, I felt guilty for leaving Harry behind, but I had to get out, I couldn't - damn it. Damn her."

"Come here." Sherlock pulled John into his arms and felt him tremble. "I'm here. You don't owe them a damn thing, John. Not a damn thing. I will support whatever you want to do. I'm sorry -"

"What for?" John mumbled into Sherlock's neck.

"The announcement, I should have considered, I should have asked before I put it in -"

"No. I wanted that as much as you did, I just didn't think they'd notice or care. Fuck! I'm starving. Think there's any of that pie left downstairs?"

"Hmmm...possibly. But you are going to have to beat me to it -" Sherlock flung back the covers and made a mad dash for their door.

"Unfair - damn it!" John shook his head as he found himself laughing. "I love you."

Sherlock turned and winked at him."I know, but I'm still gonna beat you to that pie if you don't get your arse out of that bed." 

"I'm coming, I'm coming." John sighed and pushed his feet into his slippers.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more angst, brief description of child abuse.

There was still half of a pie left waiting on the kitchen table along with a note:

 

Sherly-

There is cream in the pitcher in the fridge. I know apple is your favourite, but make sure John gets his fair share.

-Mrs J.

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and huffed as he cut two healthy slabs of pie. "I do believe Ollie is sweet on you. She has little to no use for most of humanity, but I did notice that she made sure you had seconds of everything at supper." He found a plate and two forks and retrieved the cream, and placed them on the table. "Coffee?"

John nodded and reached a hand out for a fork. "I think it was actually thirds."

"Thirds?"

"Guess she thinks I need feeding up." John smirked as he pushed a bite of pie into Sherlock's surprised mouth.

"That's my job." Sherlock sniffed as he moved to put on the kettle and get out two mugs. He turned to see John drag his finger through the cream that had puddled on the plate. "What is it, love?"

"You said on the trip here that you understood why I didn't talk about family when we became intimate-"

Sherlock closed his eyes and groaned softly. "I was out of line, I had no business making comparisons; my only excuse is that I was trying not to - damn it, I wasn't thinking, John."

"No. Tell me, please? No one else has ever said anything."

Sherlock sighed and glared at the kettle that was taking its sweet time heating up.

"Love?" John stood up and walked to stand behind Sherlock, barely touching his shoulder.

"You remember that case, before the Hound? The boys who went missing?"

John nodded.

"When we found them, I made note of all the scars. The reasons they left home -"

"I remember."

"I knew you had scars from the war, and a few from working with me, but you also have old ones, barely noticeable now, but I could feel them -"

"Is that why you wanted to wait?"

"What?" Sherlock turned and stared at him.

"I had thought you needed time when you got back; when you had healed from your time away. You acted like you wanted to be with me, but the first time you touched me, you drew away. You asked for more time. Was it because you thought I wasn't ready, because of what you could feel, or did I pull away first?"

"I - I was afraid I was pushing you into something; I thought if it didn't work out, damn. I wanted you, always, John, but when I could feel what was done to you, and I thought I knew why, I needed to be sure it was what you wanted. I knew how old the scars were, knew they were from childhood; possibly accidents, but there were so many, I assumed it had to be something that had gone on for years, and I froze. I didn't want to hurt you more -"

John walked back to the table and sat down. "It started when I was seven," he whispered.

"John-" Sherlock blinked as the kettle sang out in the silence. He spun to turn it off, and poured steaming water over the instant coffee. He stirred John's briskly for a moment, then placed it in front of him.

"My father thought he could beat it out of me. I played rugby, but I also loved to read, too much for his liking. He was in the Army, so not home much. I was quiet, kept to myself, basically tried to stay out of his way when he was home, but, he saw me drawing once, a flower, from our garden, and he lost it. My mum, she tried to stop him, but, she was too terrified of him to do much, and I think deep down agreed with him on some level. He always told me it was for my own good, since I was always smaller than everyone else, he was going to 'toughen' me up. He did that alright. He -" John wrapped his hands around the warm mug, slowly brought it to his lips and took a sip. "made me hard, took all my soft edges, he made me mean, Sherlock, angry. The first time I came home with a black eye, that was the first and last time he smiled at me. He told me how proud he was, then beat me for getting suspended. Went on until I knocked him out the day I left for Uni, told them I would never come home, and I never did. I stayed in touch with Harry a bit, was at her wedding. I was her only guest, besides friends, tried to help out when she would call, but I was just as messed up when I was discharged, couldn't even -" He put his mug down and forced himself to meet Sherlock's eyes. "help myself. Then I met you. And I realised he didn't beat everything good out of me, because there was something left for you to find, something in me that was still worth loving."

Sherlock went to his knees slowly next to John's chair, laid his head in John's lap and wrapped his arms around the still and silent man in front of him.

"I'm sorry, John," He whispered.

"No."

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't."

"You didn't deserve any of it. You did nothing wrong."

"Please. Don't."

"You deserve to be loved and cherished."

John slipped out of his chair and crumpled against Sherlock. 

"You are a good, strong, and gentle man, John Watson, and I love you." Sherlock pulled him tightly against his chest and kissed the top of his head.

"How - why?"

"I don't know any other way to live anymore, love."

Sherlock felt John shake in his arms. "You are safe and loved, and one day, you will truly know all the reasons, because I will keep telling you, until you can't stand it any more."

They sat there in silence until Sherlock whispered, "you will have to help me up, my knee's locked up." John snorted, then pulled back just enough to look at Sherlock's face. He saw all the love he had never seen in his father's face etched in Sherlock's crooked grin and reflected in his sparkling green eyes.

"Damn, I love you."

Sherlock kissed him again and nodded. "I know, now help me up so we can eat pie before Lizzie wakes up."

John shook his head, but eased him into his chair, then sat down and fed him a bite. Sherlock closed his eyes and hummed, "I love you, too." 

When Lizzie walked into the kitchen twenty minutes later, in need of coffee, she found them finishing off the crumbs. She cleared her throat to announce her presence and felt her breath catch as they looked up at her. She saw the beginnings of their healing, and felt strongly that she was witnessing one of the greatest, truest loves that ever existed. She was not a fanciful woman, in fact, she was the most rational, the most reasonable person she knew.

"More coffee, boys?"

"Please, Lizzie?" They said together, then fell against each other, laughing until tears rolled down their faces.

She rolled her eyes upward, as she refilled the kettle, but felt something inside her melt, and she couldn't remember feeling this happy or content, not since. Well. Maybe, she thought, perhaps it's not too late.


	37. Chapter 37

"Lizzie?"

"Hmmm?"

"What are you looking for?"

Sherlock was watching her tear apart her usually very orderly bookcase of photo albums from the doorway. 

"An album."

"Yessss..."

"A very specific album. From when I was a girl. Don't say one word, William."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Lizzie."

"I can hear you thinking all the way over here, cut it out."

"Sorry. Can I help?"

"It should be here, I have it all ordered by years, it's not where it should be - ahh. Here it is, just misplaced. I know you're curious, come sit down with me." She pulled out a stack of albums and walked over to the couch, then patted the space next to her. "You boys are so lucky. I know it's still not as easy as it should be, but, you can marry John. I wasn't so fortunate." 

"What was her name, Lizzie?"

"Annabeth, but she was always Bits. We knew each other from birth. Born the same day, same hospital. She was my John. She had one helluva mouth on her, yet she could always sweet talk her way out of anything, and if she couldn't talk her way out...she always carried a blade with her, from age 8, on, if I recall correctly."

"Really?" Sherlock grinned as Lizzie flipped through page after page of two post-war babies who turned into schoolgirls with pigtails who in turn morphed into permed young ladies, outrageous in an outrageous time, they protested for and against everything and anything, danced in skimpy outfits as they sipped cocktails, punted together on busy waterways, obviously in love, as far as Sherlock was concerned; then suddenly the pages changed. Annabeth disappeared, and as Lizzie remained at the Holmes estate, she too vanished as snaps of first Mycroft, and later Sherlock began to dominate the pages.

"What happened?" Sherlock asked quietly, as Lizzie closed the last book. 

"What usually happened in those days, it was fine for girls to be companions and 'friends' into their twenties, but once our education was completed, you married a fine young man from a good, upstanding family with fine prospects, raised a family, and did good works, or if you were fortunate and you chose not to marry, you might have a family that would take you in, in some rare cases, there were women who had careers, but had very lonely lives out in the world."

"Sounds rather Victorian, if you ask me," John muttered from the doorway.

"We had made a plan to run, we were packed and about to leave, but my brother, your father, found out, and gently reminded us what our lives would become. We were accustomed, I was accustomed, to a certain lifestyle, Bits was willing to try, I wasn't. She married her 'fine young man' and never spoke to me again. And I became hostess, housekeeper, nanny and tutor here."

"Do you ever wish -" Sherlock began quietly. John walked into the room and stood behind them, laying a hand on Sherlock's shoulder, squeezing it gently.

"Some days, yes, of course, I wish I had chased after her and boarded the train to London we had purchased tickets for. We had jobs set up, a lovely little flat, but I had time to consider the possible repercussions, and though I loved her more than I can possibly explain, I knew deep down that neither of us were truly prepared to give up our easy lives. One day, eventually she would have hated me for what she had given up, and I wouldn't have survived that. She knew it too, but I was the one who sent her away, I made the decision for both of us. But, I loved watching you and Mycroft grow up, I adored your parents, so I don't regret how I spent my life, no, love, no I don't."

"What became of Bits, Lizzie?" Sherlock asked.

"I tried keeping track of her through the society pages, she and her hubby were quite a stunning pair and made for easy tabloid fodder when he left her for a much younger woman, a few years back. I lost track of her after that - I wonder - I know you are busy with wedding plans, but, could you find Bits for me? I'm happy to pay your usual rate."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Lizzie, don't be ridiculous, you are family."

John kissed him on the neck and whispered, "You charge Mycroft double."

"Yes, that's the going rate for government work," Sherlock smirked. "Lizzie has even more blackmail material on me than Mycroft; he missed most of my, shall we say, 'formative years' when he was away at school. Of course we'll try to find her for you, Lizzie. It's the least I can do, for all you did for us. But, first, the reason I was looking for you, I want to show John the chapel, will you join us? You know the history of this place so well -"

"Of course, love, you have no idea what it means that you and John will marry here. No, now I think you might have a rather good idea, don't you?"

Sherlock wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. "I hope your Bits will be sitting in the pew next to you when we exchange our vows."

Lizzie blinked hard and whispered, "oh, love. You have grown into quite the romantic, haven't you?"

"You can hardly blame me, can you?" John blushed a becoming shade of pink as Sherlock winked at him.

"No, no, I can't. Come on then, boys, the chapel awaits."


	38. Chapter 38

Lizzie sat in her chair with a cup of tea. She could have used something stronger, but it was early in the day still. The boys had taken the car into town after seeing the chapel, as Sherlock wanted to give John the grand tour of the village, and she suspected he had realised she needed time to herself. Even as a child, he had been eerily perceptive where she was concerned.

 

"Aunty Lizzie?"

"Hmmm?"

"Uhm, the kettle?" Sherlock had closed his book and laid it on the table, then watched her carefully.

"Oh. Right." She had stood up from the table, turned off the burner and poured the boiling water over the tea, then sat back down across Sherlock. She remembered picking up the paper again and seeing the photo of Bits and her husband; she found she couldn't look away, it was a bit like watching the aftermath of a car wreck. She always seemed to be smiling at him in the photos, she seemed to be happy with her -

"What's wrong?" He had looked her with his bright, intelligent eyes, and she had shaken her head.

"Nothing you need to worry about, sweetie." She had quickly turned the page, trying to forget.

"I'm thorry." He had touched her hand and she had tried to smile at him.

"Why are you sorry, Sherlock?" Her voice broke a bit as she had tried to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall.

"You just seem so sad, and when someone else is sad, I know that you always try to make them feel better." She recalled then that he had frowned, an odd expression on such a young, yet thoughtful face, then went back to his book.

 

"Lizzie -"

"Olive?"

"Luv? Are you all right? You've been someplace else-"

"Sorry - just remembering. Sherlock, as a child, he always knew when I was upset, always tried to make it better."

Mrs. Jolly sighed and nodded. "You two were quite the pair, cut from the same cloth, always knew when the other was hurtin'. I thought he'd be back long before now, don't know how he stayed away..."

Lizzie sighed, and got up from her chair. "Yes, we were, but you know why he stayed away. Too many bloody ghosts, too many memories in this damned place. You wanted to ask me something?"

"Lunch? Should I make anything for you, or the boys?"

"No, nothing for me, and I think they were going to grab a bite in the village."

 

"What are we doing at the newspaper? I thought we were going to get lunch?" John grumbled.

"Starting the search for Bits, thought the archives might be a good place to start. We'll get lunch soon, promise." Sherlock pushed the door open and groaned. In the display case was photo after photo of him, before the Fall and after. He almost turned around to leave but the editor caught a glimpse of him.

"Sherlock Holmes, in the flesh, and Dr. Watson. I heard rumours you two were in town."

"Sebastian." Sherlock vaguely remembered him from school - he had been a bully, someone who made fun of his lisp and his hair, and sighed inwardly as he put out his hand.

"What can I do for you?" Same fake smile from almost forty years ago.

"I'm doing some work for a client, was wondering if you have your archives online yet, or -"

"Hmmm, we are working on converting everything, but it takes time, everything is still on Microfiche though, let me get our archivist up here, she should be able to get you started." He went into his office and made a phone call, spoke for a moment, then returned. "Valerie will be up in a minute. I'm sure you remember her, hmm, Sherlock?"

"Yes. of course I do." Sherlock put on his most fake sincere smile and felt John tense next to him.

"Holy Shit. Sherlock and his doctor, how perfect!" Valerie Harris blew the stray hair out of her face and dusted her hand off on her trousers before offering it to Sherlock. "Sebastian thought I could help?" She looked at the editor and smiled at him. "Don't you have something that needs editing, Sebastian?"

"Right you are. Sorry for staring, just funny is all. After all this time. You must have some interesting stories -"

"Sherlock? Dr. Watson? Please follow me, our machines are a bit on the ancient side, but they are in good nick still." Sherlock managed to smile apologetically at Sebastian, and something in John's countenance seemed fierce enough to send the editor mumbling back to his office.

"He's still an arsehole, but I love my job. Now, how can I help?"

"You remember my Aunt Elizabeth?"

"Lizzie? Of course I do, I've helped her with a lot of research over the years. Something she needs looked up?"

"Actually, I'm trying to find someone for her, an old friend."

"Ah...Annabeth Morgan."

"You know about her?"

"Mmm. Yeah, I had to come back here after Uni, to take care of my mother - you don't want to know, after she died, I decided to stay, and Sebastian offered me this job. I trained to be a historian, so it was perfect, money's shit, but I have plenty. Any way, when I first started, Lizzie would stop by, she remembered me somehow, and she was lonely. She missed you - a lot. We would talk over tea, and eventually, she trusted me enough to tell me about Bits. She had started searching for her, but as the years went by, she grew frustrated by a lack of new leads. Honestly, I think she became afraid of what would happen if she ever did find her..."

 

"Tell us about her, Lizzie?"

The three of them were sitting in the front pew of the chapel, John was still taking in everything; blinking at the size and history of the place where they were to marry. Lizzie shrugged.

"Not much to tell, she was Annabeth Morgan nee Thompson, like I said, we share a birthday, I have a file inside if you want to see what I have saved over the years...."

 

"Sherlock?""

"Oh, sorry. You were saying?"

"I said I have a file of the articles that Lizzie has made copies of over the years, they stop, let's see - about ten years ago when her slime ball of a husband dumped her for someone twenty years younger. She basically vanished into thin air once their divorce was settled."

"Hmmm. Perhaps we can trace her through legal documents, anything in the papers back then? Did she stay in London after the divorce, or did she go abroad? Phone books...need to get online, see if there is anything..children? Did she have siblings..." He sat down at an unoccupied desk, grabbed a sheet of paper and started scribbling, then pulled out his phone.

"Is he usually like this?" Vanessa smirked at John as Sherlock closed his eyes and muttered to himself, oblivious to anyone and anything else.

"Yep." John smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "Lead me to the machines and I'll get started; he'll be a while." She led him to a room with a couple of readers and cabinets full of old films. He dusted off a chair, sat down and waited for the interrogation to begin. Vanessa looked at the catalogue and started to pull out the drawers.

"This looks like a good place to start, the month they divorced." She brought over a film and handed it to him. He threaded it into the machine and turned it on.

"Been a while since I've used one of these. Everything is so digitised these days, nice to see something analog for once." He ran through a few issues before she cleared her throat.

"So. You're-" 

"Former surgeon, now blogger and -"

"I saw the engagement announcement, congratulations. I always thought he was -"

John muttered from his seat without looking up, "a bit odd? Or are you one of those people he offended deeply somehow?"

"No. No, I always thought he was interesting, a bit, uhm, very misunderstood. He was decent to me, one of the few people who paid me much attention. He would sit down across from me in the library, write me funny poems to cheer me up, then he would grin shyly, nod at me and vanish. He was lonely, I think. I remember he was always doing crazy experiments, wanted to know how and why -"

"Still does - ah, here we go. Geez, a nice little spread, for a small paper, you guys used up a lot of ink on this."

"Well, she had been a local girl, her family had connections and her husband was -"

John whistled. "Landed gentry, damn - she made a bundle, it appears."

"Yeah, he wanted to marry an actress, in a hurry, so he didn't fight her demands. Course, that second marriage didn't last a year, and the fool didn't make her sign a pre-nup, so she took him to the cleaners. Serves him right. Men are arseholes."

"Yup. Guilty as charged. Can you print this out for me?"

"Sorry. Didn't mean - damn, I always put my foot in it. Of course, let me go make sure the printer has paper in it, be right back."

"There you are." Sherlock tumbled into the seat next to John. "I think I know where she is, Let's take Valerie to lunch and then we'll go see if my theory is correct."

"Dr. Watson - oh - uhm, here is the printout you wanted."

"Thank you, but please, call me John." 

"Yes, of course, John - were you needing to look at more films?"

Sherlock shook his head."Though we would like to take you to lunch, if you didn't have other plans?"

Valerie grinned and shook her head. "The local? It has a decent beer list and the best cheese and pickle sandwich, no one will bug us there, I'd like to hear your idea about where she is -"

"How did you know I -" Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her.

"Well, I overheard you telling John you had it figured out, but I also seem to recall you wouldn't eat a thing while you were working on a problem, so..."

Sherlock eyes twinkled and he laughed, hopping up from his chair, and offering John his hand. "Simplicity itself - come, John, cheese and pickles await!" 

 

They were settled in a dark corner, ales for John and Valerie, coffee for Sherlock, and waiting on the 'best pickles in Sussex, if not the universe itself!' according to the girl who took their order.

"Spill it -" Valerie took a sip of her ale and sighed happily.

For once, to John's amazement, he did just that.

"She went home. I think she's been in Sussex since her divorce."

"So, what's your plan? Just show up at her door and ring the doorbell?" Valerie smirked as she took another sip.

"Exactly. But not until I've had a bit of cheese and pickle."


	39. Chapter 39

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"No. I'm sure it is probably a terrible idea -"

"Then -"

"Why? Because Lizzie deserves to know -"

"Know?"

"If there is a chance that she has been forgiven." Sherlock pressed the doorbell and stood back, surprised when Bits herself opened the door.

"Yes?" She looked up at Sherlock and squinted, then felt for her specs which were resting in her hair, the once golden locks had gone a warm ash, and pushed them onto her nose. "Damn. You," then turned her head to peer at John. "I know you two - you," pointing a slender finger at John, "are that blogger - writes all those detective stories...about you. And you," she sighed as she turned her dark blue eyes on Sherlock,"...you, my boy, are definitely a Holmes, if ever there was one. A lot of Lizzie in you. Well. Best come in, and you, young lady? You too, come have some tea."

They were sitting in her kitchen, much like the kitchen where they had shared pie earlier that day, sipping tea and eating cake, when she cleared her throat and spoke.

"She sent you to find me. Didn't she?"

"Uhm, well - she asked me to look for you - she doesn't know we're here. I thought I would -"

"make sure your theory was the correct one, and see if I had forgiven her lovely arse yet?" She took another sip of tea, then waited, looking at Sherlock with eyes that seemed to look into his soul.

"Yes."

"I - hmm. Yes. I did, I do. Years ago. I was furious at her. I wanted her to be stronger, but after a few years, I realised, she had been strong back then. God, if you had known her then. She had your curls, dark, beautiful hair, she hated those curls, always trying to straighten them - but I loved running my fingers - ah, yes, by the way you are blushing Dr. Watson, I know you know -"

John blinked but nodded, and reached for another piece of cake.

"and so much fun, she was - she lit up any room she would walk into, so many men adored her, but she was always mine. Always. She still is, isn't she?"

"Yes. There was never anyone -"

"I spent years looking for an engagement announcement, but, there never was one. I never wanted her to be alone. I never asked that of her."

"She had her family, the estate to run, after -"

"Yes, your parents. I was so sorry to read about that. I sent flowers, anonymously of course. I couldn't make it home for the funeral, there was something - can't remember what was so important. She had you boys for a while, but then you grew up, as boys do. Yes. I have a couple - they are - hmm... in the States, last I heard." She took another sip of tea and frowned. "I need something a bit stronger. Anyone?" They all shook their heads. "Suit yourselves." She went to the cupboard and pulled out a barely used bottle, poured herself a double and tossed it back."Give me, say, ten minutes?"

Sherlock froze. "You mean?"

"Yes. It's been too long already, don't you think? Ah, hell. If she really loves me still, she won't care if I don't put on my face, will she?"

Valerie piped up. "I know she does. I've seen how her eyes light up when she speaks of you."

"Alright then, let me just grab my keys - no, let me drive I'll follow you, just in case, don't want to be chauffeured about, spent too much time in the back of cars behind dark windows."

 

Have a surprise for you - SH

Oh dear, I hate surprises. - LH

Good one, promise. - SH

You didn't. - LH

I did, we did. - SH

Thank you, sweet boy. - LH


	40. Chapter 40

"Olive!!" Lizzie looked at the mess in the kitchen. She always baked when under stress, and she was elbows deep in another pie crust. She was positive she looked a fright, her silvering curls piled into a bun on the top of her head, she was sure there was flour on her face and God only knew what else - "OLLLLLIVE!!! Get yer arse in here!"

"You bellowed, Lizzie?" Olive looked into the kitchen and laughed. "What, are you expecting an army or two?"

"Bits - Ollie, they found Bits, and she's coming over, here. Now. And I'm -"

"as gorgeous as you always were, Lizzie Holmes." Bits was at the kitchen door, grinning at her back.

"Liar." Slowly, Lizzie turned to face the woman she had been afraid she would never see again; now she was terrified to look into the deep indigo eyes that had haunted her dreams. She bit her lip and tried to stop the emotions that were hitting all at once. "Bits - I -"

"Okay, maybe a little rough around the edges, but -" Bits walked further into the kitchen and watched as Lizzie's face crumpled. "Liz - I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I should have come sooner. I didn't know how. I was afraid. Afraid you wouldn't want me anymore. I should have known better - Love, I am so sorry - please, please forgive me?" Bits moved to stand in front of her friend and first and only love. She trembled, looked down at her toes, then blew a stray hair away. They both stopped, caught the other's eye and fell into each other's arms; giggles turned to snorts, which led to happy tears and hiccups.

"Tea?" Lizzie whispered, when they had recovered enough to speak.

"Damn it, Liz, it's almost two in the afternoon -" Bits rolled her eyes as she wiped Lizzie's tears away.

"G and T?"

"What else, sweetness?"

 

Sherlock, John and Valerie had driven to the front of the house, to give Lizzie and Bits some privacy. 

"You grew up here?" Valerie asked in wonder as they walked around the gardens.

"Mmmhmm." Sherlock watched her face, and for a moment recalled the girl he had known. "You always sat by yourself in the library. I remember, you seemed almost lonelier than me at times. I - "

"You were always kind to me, Sherlock. Thank you, for including me today, I was always hoping I could help Lizzie find her, she seemed so lost. No one should be so alone."

Sherlock hugged her gently. "No, but you can do better than Sebastian. Damn. Sorry, that was -" John rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

"No, you're right. He is, was, convenient, and then he became -:"

Sherlock and John looked at her with concern in their eyes.

"Boring. God, he's so dull, he talks himself to sleep on my couch." She started laughing, and they joined in; they laughed until their sides were aching. 

"Stay?" Sherlock asked. He was starving, the cheese and pickles seemed hours ago now. He knew there was always something in the kitchen, some cake or pudding - they walked to the kitchen door and Sherlock peeked in the window. Lizzie was feeding Bits a spoonful of trifle, his favourite of her puddings. He turned and put his finger to his lips. He watched for a moment until Lizzie looked up and caught him. She nodded at him to enter with a bit of a lopsided smile, a smile that actually reached her eyes, it struck him that he had never seen her truly happy before this moment. He nodded and opened the door. "You are going to -" He didn't get to finish his sentence as his aunt flew into his arms.

"You - you can have all the damn trifle you want. Thank you, you beautiful boy, and John. Oh, Val, my friend. Of course you went to the newspaper first, I should have warned you about Sebastian, though I suspect you were more than capable of dealing with that arse now, weren't you? Yes, of course you were..."

 

"Can't sleep?" Lizzie whispered, as Sherlock entered the kitchen. He shook his head and sat down next to her at the table.

"I keep thinking, if I had come home sooner, I could have helped you and Bits long before now. I can't imagine being kept from John all those years. Two years was bad enough, but to be forced to marry someone she didn't love, because it was what society demanded - I - I'm so sorry, Lizzie, now I know why you were so sad - I wish I had known before now - she's a lovely person, Lizzie."

Lizzie sighed and kissed his forehead. "You always knew, I couldn't hide it from you - truth is, love, we weren't ready until now. We were both cowards, too afraid to get hurt again. We both needed your fearlessness -"

Sherlock stared at her and murmured, "Truth is, I'm scared all the time, Lizzie, all I knew is that you needed to know. You deserve to be happy, when I saw you look up at me, it was the first time I've really seen you smile. Your eyes, Lizzie, they sparkled at me." He took a breath and looked at the floor. "I know it's none of my business -"

"We are going out tomorrow night, dinner and a movie. We are set in our ways, after all this time, but we are no longer lonely, love, because of you, we can be friends again. You gave us back to each other. It's a gift that - damn, I'm all cried out, today. Don't worry about us, lovely boy, go back to bed and snuggle up to that amazing man of yours." She kissed his forehead again and hugged him gently. "Go - scoot!" He grinned at her and made his way back to the bedroom where John was still sleeping.

 

Sorry, Sherlock couldn't sleep, was thinking too much as usual - LH

He's a good boy, Lizzie, you did a lovely job with him - B

I think it's more John's doing, honestly - LH

Ah, perhaps, but you loved him first, you accepted him as he is, he knew deep down he was loved - B

I love you - LH

I love you, silly goose - B

Tomorrow? - LH

Tomorrow - B


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a short bit...

Sherlock sniffed the air. Tea and buttered toast. John's shampoo, his soap. Hands, John's hands, his fingers that knew him so - "John?" He finally opened his eyes to find John watching him, there was something in the way he looked at him, he wasn't sure what it was. "What? Something happen? Talk to me?"

"Shh. No, everything is perfect. A little while ago, I went into the kitchen to find Lizzie humming while she was reading the paper. She looked up at me and she smiled, then put the paper down and walked over to me. She gave me the biggest hug, nodded at me, then made me a tray. 'Go wake up that lovely nephew of mine, give him breakfast, then spoil him rotten, please? You have made two old broads happier than we deserve to be. Please don't stop loving him, don't ever let him doubt that he is - no, I don't need to tell you that. You know. You know how to love him. I'm so grateful for you.' Then she kissed my forehead, and went back to reading her paper. So. Today, you are going to eat breakfast, and then we are going to stay in bed as long as humanly possible."

Sherlock nodded at him, unable to speak.

"That thing you did yesterday -"

"We did."

"No, it was you, Val and I were just along for the ride. You gave Lizzie back her heart yesterday, they barely touched each other when we were in the room, but I saw Bits look at Lizzie when she thought she wasn't paying attention..."

"It's like how you look at me - I saw it too, and the one time Lizzie caught her, their faces in the candlelight - it was as if no one else existed. Just for that moment, I could see how they had been, then I blinked and they were laughing at one of your stories."

"One of our stories, you mean -" John picked up a piece of toast and whispered, "Open up." Sherlock rolled his eyes, but did as instructed, and happily chomped down on the offering.

"I love you, John Watson." He murmured between bites. 

"I know, you idiot." John grinned at him, and handed Sherlock his tea.

"No. Please. Look at me?" Sherlock put his tea back down. "I.love.you. I love you in ways that poets have never dared to even dream of writing about. It is like one of those German words that has no true translation in English; I love you like bees love flowers. Do you know, I walk around wondering when my heart will finally simply burst from how I love you, and yes, logically, I know that won't happen, all the same -"

John pressed his lips gently against Sherlock's for a long moment, then drew back to look at the man in front of him. "I do know, love. Give me your hand. There, do you feel that? I know it when you are standing next to me, we don't even have to be touching, and I feel your love wrap around me, and I know I'm safe. That may not seem like much, but it is everything, just to know my heart and love are safe with you. I have never had that before you. And when we make love, I lose myself in you, the world ceases to matter when you whisper my name like it is something sacred."

"It is. You are. John. You are precious, and sacred. Everything. You are simply my everything, John Watson."


	42. Chapter 42

Mrs. Jolly was in the kitchen laying out a cold lunch when they finally got up. She looked up and shook her head, then walked up to Sherlock and laid a hand on his cheek. "You. Fer all of your, well, quirks, you, my boy, made my friend very happy, yesterday. I've never seen her, heard her -"

"I just did what -"

"No. Tonight you get whatever you want for dinner, anything." She reached on her tiptoes and kissed his nose, then whispered, "cold luncheon fer now tho'." She nodded at him, and rubbed the lipstick smudge from his nose, then left the kitchen.

John grinned at Sherlock, then poured him a cup of tea. "Are you hungry?"

"Hmm...a bit...perhaps just a sandwich, then..."

"Then?"

"We could, uhm, work on the reception menu..."

"Or?"

"Or...we could go back to bed and you could do that thing..."

"You mean -"

"Yoo-hooooo, boys!"

"Bits! Uhm, good morning - erm, afternoon?" Sherlock stammered.

"You do blush a pretty shade of pink, love. Where's Lizzie?"

"Uhm, garden, maybe, not sure. Tea?"

"None for me, thanks, I'll see if I can find her, don't let me interrupt-" She kissed him on the cheek, then stomped off to find her friend.

John giggled. "Your face - "

"You saw her come in -"

John snorted and kissed Sherlock hard. "Come back to bed?"

Sherlock nodded as he grabbed a sandwich. "Don't think you're forgiven that easily -"

John rolled his eyes and whispered in the voice he knew made Sherlock's toes curl. "Come.back.to.bed."

"Damn." The sandwich was dropped back on the plate, and Sherlock followed John back to bed.


	43. Chapter 43

"He did it."

Mycroft sighed and rolled his eyes. "What, Lizzie, did he do now? Do I need to come down there?"

"No. He found Bits for me." 

He could hear her smiling on the phone. "Bits? You mean-?"

"Uhmhmm. He is remarkable."

"Yes, Lizzie, he is. So, how is -"

"She's the same, but I'm still afraid. I'm not sure, after all this time, if she - oh. Uhm. Never mind. I think you'll get to meet her at the wedding, gotta go love. See you soon."

Mycroft stared at his phone, and shook his head.

 

Meet me for lunch? - MH

Where? - GL

Home? Please. - MH

What's wrong? - GL

Nothing. Nothing's wrong. - MH

 

"Bits?" Lizzie ended the call and looked up from her patch of weeding. "You always seem to catch me at a disadvantage." She rubbed her nose and tried to push the hair out of her face. Bits helped Lizzie to her feet, then brushed the stray curl from her eyes.

"I need to know, Lizzie, I need to know if you will take a chance, if you can, if you will, bloody hell. I had a speech, even wrote it down, I practiced, but now, I'm not sure. When your nephew knocked on my door the other day, I thought time had stopped and gone back 40 years, shit. Thing is, Lizzie, I want to be with you. I'll be wherever you want, I'll do anything, be anything. I just don't want to lose any more time because -"

Lizzie stopped the tumble of words with a single, simple kiss, nothing earth shattering, but when she pulled back, she giggled as she saw the stunned expression on her friend's face. "Yes, Bits. Yes. I do believe you will have to pinch me, though- you have no idea how many times I've dreamed this. Except, I don't have smudges of dirt on my nose -"

Bits held Lizzie's face in her hands and smiled. "I'd rather take you inside and finally make love to you, though if pinching is your thing-"

"I don't know what 'my thing' is Bits - no one, I've never -" Lizzie blushed and tried to turn away.

"Oh, love. I'm so sorr -"

"Please don't apologise, Bits, you are the only one, the only person I've ever wanted, and fear made me give you up. I'm not afraid any longer. Let me get a shower -"

"Uh-uh, maybe after? Right now, Lizzie Holmes, we've waited far too long -"

"Bits."

 

Greg opened the door and saw Mycroft's briefcase and umbrella. "Myc?"

"In here."

Greg dropped his keys and toed off his shoes. He walked into their bedroom and smiled as he saw his husband hunched over his desk, typing furiously at his laptop.

"Just a moment - I just need to -"

Greg moved to stand behind him, and placed a hand on his shoulder. Mycroft stopped and leaned back against him. 

"Just finishing up my best man's speech. Had to get it down before - mmmm."

"What happened?"

"Sherlock, he found Lizzie's friend, no, she was more than that - Bits was you - she, and Lizzie -"

"I see."

"I needed to, wanted to be with you, I - sometimes, I take you for granted. And I never want you to feel - damn it."

"Shh. Come to bed, love."

 

"You're shaking." Bits whispered. "Do you need more time? Damn - I always did the jump the gun a bit."

"No. I just, I never thought -" Lizzie bit her lip and shook her head. "I'm afraid I won't be very good."

"Lizzie." Bits rolled her eyes at her and sighed. "You have always been brilliant at anything you have ever tried. Let me, please? Trust me?"

Lizzie closed her eyes and nodded. "Yes, love."

Bits began unbuttoning Lizzie's flannel work shirt, revealing a lilac silk camisole. "Lizzie?"

"It's been in my drawer, never wore it until today."

"You're still the same, Lizzie, still the gorgeous, lanky thing you always were."

Lizzie undid her muddy work trousers, letting them fall to the carpet, then stepped out of them. "Please, Bits?"

"Raise your arms, love?" She slipped the top from her friend and sighed. "Lizzie." 

"I love you, Bits."

"God, Lizzie, I love you, too."


	44. Chapter 44

Sherlock yawned as he walked into the kitchen. He stopped short as he saw Bits making two bowls of ice cream. "Go heavy on the whipped cream -"

"but no sprinkles, yeah, I know." Bits offered him the carton and he nodded, as he took it from her.

"I don't have any right to say this, I've been away too long to make a claim as her, I don't know, protector? But -"

"I never wanted to go. She made me. Worst day of my life. No. I need to say this. Back then, we would have been cut off from everything and everyone if we had gone to London as we had planned. Deep down, I knew, but I loved, love her so much, I was willing to make a go of it. So was she until your father spoke to her. He was very kind to me, always was, but he laid it out for us, how hard it could be, not just money issues, but the isolation - and she, she let me go. She didn't want me to lose everything, but she never quite understood, I lost everything the day I walked away from her. Yes. I see you understand. Why did I not come to her sooner? Fear, simple fear of rejection. Years ago I had to decide that she couldn't have loved me half as much as I did her, so I could function. So I could fake my way through a marriage of convenience, raising two boys - I didn't know until you showed up, and then, nothing could keep me away from her."

"Her deep sadness, that's what I remember most about her as I grew up here. She was always cheerful though, my brother and I never wanted for anything, and she knew early on, as our parents did that there wouldn't be more Holmes children, Mycroft and I knew we would never bring home a girl to meet the family, and it was okay. No, it was more than okay, they always taught us that love is what matters, all they ever wanted was for us to love and be loved. They would be so happy to know that Lizzie isn't alone anymore, that you are with her now."

Lizzie sniffled at the doorway then, and Bits and Sherlock froze. "Sherlock Holmes - and you claim that your doctor is the romantic." She walked into the kitchen and hugged him fiercely. "You are simply a remarkably beautiful human being, love. Yes, you are. So many gifts, so much love in that big heart of yours. I love you, so much."

To all of their surprise, Sherlock held tightly to her and wept silently on her shoulder. "I should have come home so long ago, Lizzie, you shouldn't have been so lonely all this time - "

"No. You came home when you could. When love called you home, sweet boy, you came home. Now. Where is my ice cream? I'm absolutely starving."


	45. Chapter 45

They had one more uneventful day in Sussex, spending time getting to know Bits over copious amounts of trifle to Sherlock 's delight. He knew they were leaving Lizzie in good hands and that Bits would indeed be next to her on their wedding day, as he had promised his aunt. The morning of their departure, he left John to sleep in and made his way quietly into the kitchen where he found Lizzie sitting with her cup of tea.

"Morning." He kissed her cheek and sat down next to her.

"You're going back today." Lizzie murmured without looking at him.

"Yeah, it's time, but we will spend a week here before the wedding if that is acceptable? And you will bring Bits to London before that, yes?"

Lizzie looked up finally and she smiled at him, that smile that told him she was content, more than that, she was no longer missing her heart.

"You gave her back to me, you gave me back to me. I don't know how I can ever properly thank you for that."

"Just be happy?" Sherlock answered her after a long minute, then laid his hand over hers, and they sat quietly until Ollie entered the kitchen.

"Big breakfast, before you go?"

"You know I will never say no to your breakfast, Ollie," Sherlock grinned at her, then got up and walked over to her and lifted her off her feet in a huge bear hug. "Thank you."

Mrs. Jolly hugged him back just as tightly and kissed his cheek. "You'll be back soon. For the wedding, yes?"

"We're going to be here for the entire week before, hopefully we will still be able to fit into our wedding clothes," he said with a wink, then poured two cups of tea and went back upstairs to find John still dead to the world. Sherlock set the tea down and moved the chair so he could sit and watch John sleep. His face seemed different, at peace, like he hadn't ever seen before. He drank his tea slowly and wondered at the man in front of him. How he had found a way to forgive all of his flaws, his absence for two years, and love him so completely. He didn't know what he had done to deserve -

"Nothing." 

"Hmm?"

"You didn't have to do anything to deserve my love." John opened his eyes and smiled softly at Sherlock.

"But..."

"No. It, we, I don't know, you are just, damn." He sat up, rubbed his eyes and grimaced. "I'm going to have to come up with something better than that soon, aren't I? Something that makes sense to a chapel full of people, words that -"

Sherlock shook his head, and put his now empty cup down on the table, and got into bed next to John. They lay there in silence, simply breathing together, then Sherlock kissed his friend, lover and husband-to-be in a way that left no questions unanswered.

John blinked at him and nodded. "Time to go home."

"Yes, but first Ollie is going to do a bit more damage to our waistlines, luckily we have some time to recover before we have to get our final fittings."

John rolled his eyes, but saw the pure joy in Sherlock's face, and laughed. "Take me to it, love."


	46. Chapter 46

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> introducing another character, who rarely gets any love, a bit of Clara...

Sherlock nudged John awake as the black sedan pulled up to 221B. He nodded and stretched, then blinked, stunned at how different two places could be, Sussex had been quiet and softly green; London, was all noise and sharp edges. He sighed, then pushed himself up and out of the car, dragging their shared bag and Mrs. Jolly's basket of goodies that she had pushed into his hand before they departed just a few hours before.

"I worry -" she began, glancing at Sherlock, who was saying his goodbyes to Lizzie and Bits.

John had kissed her cheek and grinned, "I'll keep him fed, promise."

Sherlock pushed open the door to find Mrs. Hudson waiting nervously for them. He narrowed his eyes, something - or rather, someone, was here, perhaps not unwelcome, but Mrs. Hudson was rarely nervous.

"It's John's sister-in-law. I didn't want to have her wait in your flat, you weren't answering your phones, and I -"

John walked in then, and sensed the tension in the air, and saw Sherlock's shoulders tighten. Clara peeked through Mrs. Hudson's doorway and cleared her throat. "John?"

"Clara?" He nearly dropped the basket, but remembered the trifle and leftover scones and held on tightly. "What -"

"I thought if I called you wouldn't -"

Sherlock managed to pry their bag and the precious cargo from John's hands and tried to read John's face. "I'll take these upstairs, perhaps you two would rather chat at Speedy's or I can put on the kettle?"

John met Clara's eyes and knew Harry had no idea she was here, she had come to make peace, or at least attempt to. He shook his head to clear the last of the cobwebs away, and managed to make his voice sound almost normal. "The kettle, please, Sherlock, we have a decent tea in there, let's not have it go to waste on just us, hmmm?"

Sherlock nodded, letting some of the tension release from his body, and they made their way upstairs. He wasn't overly fond of new people, but he knew John needed to be at home, their home, in order to face whatever his family was going to ask of him, so he opened the door and dropped the bag by the door, then deposited the basket on the coffee table. He looked up to see John offer to help Clara out of her coat, but she shook her head.

"I - she doesn't know I'm here."

John nodded and walked over to the couch and sat down. "I'm listening, Clara."

Clara blinked, then looked over at Sherlock, who was getting the tea things out and turning on the kettle.

"He knows enough; anything you need to say to me, is safe with him. He stays."

"She knows she shouldn't have called, John, but -"

"Everyone's different now? Sorry. Please, sit, I won't bite, Clara." He tried to smile at her, but it was too much to ask of him, not yet.

Clara blew out a breath and sat on the far end of the couch and looked directly at him for the first time. "She is different, John, she knows how badly she hurt you, and she is working so hard to be a kinder person, she wants to at least apologise to you in person. I wouldn't be back with her if I didn't believe in her, you have to know that. And your mum, she has tried writing you letters, but she doesn't know how to make it better, she is afraid you won't accept her apology."

John snorted and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, Sherlock was in front of him, holding both of his hands in his, and he felt Sherlock's love and warmth flow into and around him, protecting him somehow. "I can't promise anything, Clara, but they can both write to me if it will help, that's all I can manage right now."

Clara was silent for a moment, then moved close enough to him so she could touch his shoulder. He froze for a moment then turned to look at her. "That is more than I could have hoped for, John, thank you. I won't stay for tea. We are in town for the day, Harry thinks I'm getting my hair done, and I have an appointment in five minutes, I just might make it - you have no idea how much this means, I know how hard -"

"Yes, you do, don't you?" John let go of Sherlock's hands and pulled her into a gentle hug. "I will try, Clara, I promise. Now, scoot, before you are late." He managed to grin at her and she winked at him, then got up and walked out of the flat. 

John waited until he heard the street door close, then he stood up slowly and leaned into Sherlock's chest, releasing the breath he had been holding when he felt Sherlock's arms wrap tightly around him.

"I think I need some tea." 

Sherlock nodded, but didn't move until he heard the whistle of the kettle, then he sat John back down on the couch and whispered, "I'll be right back. A bit of trifle, too?"

John shook his head. "Not yet, just need tea, and you, please?"


	47. Chapter 47

Sherlock added a splash of milk to John's tea and carried it back to the couch. John was simply sitting, staring straight ahead, without blinking. Damn. He placed the mug on the coffee table and sat next to John.

"John. I'm here, love." 

"I know." John whispered after a moment. He leaned against Sherlock's shoulder and took his hand in his trembling fingers. "I'm almost 50, Sherlock, and I let them get to me - I'm not seven anymore. Why?"

"They are your family, John." Sherlock murmured. "Family is -"

"No!" John turned and glared at him fiercely. "No, Sherlock, you. YOU are my family. Family doesn't -"

Sherlock held his face carefully, meeting his glare with his bright blue eyes. "I know, love. But, they are part of you, they brought you into the world so one day, you and I would meet. You don't owe them anything, you don't owe them forgiveness, or one minute of your time. But, I think they are finally figuring out how much they are missing by not knowing you. Give them a chance, not for them, and certainly not for me, but for yourself." He kissed John's forehead and felt John relax a bit against him. "Because I know you, John Watson. One day, you will wake up and wished you had made your peace with them. We don't have to invite them to the wedding or even see them, but, give them a chance, love. Just know this, right now, I will be right by your side." He picked up the tea and put it into John's hands, and waited until John took a sip, then put it back on the coffee table and wrapped himself around John. "I'll be right here, John. Whatever you want or need."

"I just want to be still for a while, Sherlock, can you help me be still? Just for a bit?"

"Yes, John. I can do that." He pulled the ancient throw off the back the back of the couch and covered John. Sherlock knew he should remove John's shoes simply for comfort sake, but decided against it. Instead, he gently rested his fingers in John's hair and let him know he wasn't going anywhere. "I love you, John Watson, so very much." 

"I know, Sherlock, I know," John mumbled back as he drifted back to sleep. His fingers curled softly around Sherlock's wrist, as if he needed to be sure he was real.

Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes, and soon, he too was fast asleep.


	48. Chapter 48

Sherlock glared at the insistently vibrating phone, no one he knew ever called him except in an emergency.

"Hello?" He growled quietly as to not wake John, who was still sound asleep next to him.

"Sherlock?" A female voice at the other end, not Clara -

"Harry? Give me a minute, John's still asleep, I don't want him to wake up. What time is it, anyway?"

"Hmm - noon, I think."

Sherlock closed their bedroom door and made his way into the kitchen; he knew he was going to need tea before all was said and done. He pulled out the trifle from the fridge, Mrs. Hudson must have checked on us last night..."Okay, talk. I'm listening," he mumbled as he turned on the kettle.

"I didn't send her, she went on her own, I'm sorry if John is upset," Harry blurted out in one long breath.

"Why wouldn't he be?" Sherlock retorted though not unkindly.

"What?"

"He doesn't hear from any of you for decades until you see the engagement notice, and, what, you want to make nice, now?" He didn't know Harry, and he could only imagine what Harry thought of him, assuming she read the blog and the press and -

"No, that's fair, you're right, the timing could be better." Harry muttered mostly at herself, she had John's sense for the ridiculous and he heard himself laugh in response.

"John always tells me my timing stinks. He's usually right." Sherlock sighed and ate a spoonful of trifle, trying to decide how far to trust the voice at the other end.

"I don't want him hurt anymore, Sherlock, we didn't have an easy childhood and our father, he punished us, he was harder on John than he was on me, he punished us for being who we are, he was able to get away, and find you somehow, and I just want to tell him I'm sorry, Sherlock."

Sherlock put his spoon down as the kettle sang out. He turned it off and pulled out two mugs. "Write to him, Harry, take your time and write it out, say what you mean to say, even if it looks awkward or rough, don't leave anything out." He felt two arms wrap around his waist and he leaned back against John's chest. "Above all, be honest, he knows the truth when he sees it. He's a fair person, Harry, just give him time."

"Yeah, I know he is, thank you for not hanging up on me; Clara said you seemed kind, thank you for that, too, by the way."

"For what, exactly?" Sherlock murmured.

"For being there for him, when no one else was."

"It's not kindness, Harry, I love him, always have."

"Good. Sorry for waking you, tell him - tell him whatever you want to tell him."

"I will, Bye, Harry."

Sherlock turned off his phone and laid it on the counter. "Do you want a cuppa?"

John shook his head. "No, I want you to come back to bed and make love to me, after you put the trifle back in the fridge." Sherlock turned in John's arms and looked into the dark blue eyes that held nothing but infinite love for him. Sherlock kissed John's forehead and held him gently. 

"I think that can be arranged."


	49. Chapter 49

"You think I should -" John began as they climbed back into bed.

"It doesn't matter what I think you should do. No, it really doesn't. Look, if I had a chance to talk to my parents again, you bet I would do anything to have that, but it's different for you. But at this moment, this one exact moment, you aren't going to make any decisions. You are going to let me stop that brain from thinking about anything but me, loving you. Yeah?" And with that, Sherlock found that one spot that shut John's higher, lower and even that in between thinking off.

"Hmmmmm."

"Shhh." Sherlock placed a finger over John's gently parted lips and whispered, "Remember Mrs. Hudson is downstairs..." He undressed both of them efficiently and in silence as John watched him. Sherlock shook his head and straddled John's strong thighs. "How you love me, John, I will never understand, the light when you look at me, how you know the best parts of me and forgive or at least ignore the worst - I love you so much and I don't want to see you in pain, not ever."

"Shhhh. Just, please, love. I just need -"

Sherlock nodded, then spent the next hour taking John apart bit by bit until they were both mumbling nonsense, then sighing each other's names as they came together in a way that made speech impossible for ten minutes afterwards. Sherlock held John in his arms and stroked his sweat dampened hair. 

"Shower, then there's some of Ollie's roast in the fridge, we can make sandwiches, and then, let's -"

"Go bug Greg for a case?" John smiled against Sherlock's lips before kissing him soundly.

"Hmmm....amazing how you can read my mind."

 

"They're back." Greg sighed and rolled over.

"And looking for a case?"

"Think he's trying to distract John, wedding planning bores him to tears, something must have happened while they were gone."

"When are they coming over?" Mycroft whispered next to him.

"We have a couple of hours, I think." 

"More than enough time, then."

"Yes. More than."

 

John kissed the left side of Sherlock's mouth, then the right. Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him, and John murmured, "You left some trifle there, love."

Sherlock grinned at him and laid a gentle hand in John's freshly showered hair. "You need an excuse to kiss me?"

"Never, just don't want to see it go to waste."

"I love you."

"As much as Ollie's trifle?"

"Hmmmm..."

"Sher-" John narrowed his eyes at the detective who sat back and put his fingertips together thoughtfully.

After a long contemplative moment, he looked back at John and whispered, "You win, by a hair."

"Berk."

"Come on, they've had enough of a lie-in by now."

"How did you know?"

"Greg's texting is let's just say, less clear at times than at others and Myc is in town, and it's Greg's day off..."

"Ah. And I thought you had done something clever."

"Git."

"Uhmmmhmmm, yours."

"Mine."

"Go on, at least put the bowl in the sink, then we'll go annoy your brother."

 

Dear John -

I'm not really sure what I can say. I don't deserve your forgiveness, and I know I've been a crap mother, to both of you. I think you know why things were as they were when you were growing up, I didn't leave because I felt like I didn't have a choice. I should have found a way, but I was scared, and I was used to it, used to him, used to walking on eggshells. I should never have let him hit either of you, or treat you the way he did. I am so sorr -

"He'll never forgive me, Harry. I don't know why I'm even -"

"Mum, if you don't try, you'll never know. It's worth trying isn't it? Even if you never hear from him, you will have told him how you feel about him, isn't that important enough? Just try, Mum. Keep going. Please?"


	50. Chapter 50

"What's going on, Sherlock?"

"Hmmm?"

"In need of a case when I know you have wedding things that need doin'?" Lestrade had pulled Sherlock aside, to look over some cold cases.

"Harry called him while we were in Sussex." Sherlock sighed and sat down in the chair.

"Harry."

"His sister. Wants to make peace or something." He fiddled with the top file folder before pushing the stack to the side.

"And?"

"We got home to find Clara, her wife, waiting to talk to John on Harry's behalf. Harry didn't know of course, but -."

"Damn, and it's been -"

"He hasn't seen them since he left home at 18."

"Why now?"

"It's my fault, that damn engagement announcement, they never would have known if I hadn't done that -."

Lestrade shook his head and sat down next to him. "John wanted that as much as you did, don't be ridiculous; you can't help how other people are going to react."

"I know, I just hate seeing him in pain, Greg, he told Clara his sister and mum could write to him, but I don't know if it's such a good idea; I originally thought it would be better for him to deal with it, but, now, I'm not so sure, he has times when he goes away - yeah, I know, I do it too, and now I know what it must feel like for him, when it happens to me. I just don't know how to help him, Greg."

Lestrade looked at his friend and brother as Sherlock buried his face in his hands; he laid a tentative hand on Sherlock's shoulder and gave it his best shot. "Just be there, Sherlock, be whatever he needs you to be. It's a rough time for this to be happening, but just listen to him, talk to him before you try to save him." Sherlock's head popped up and he glared at Lestrade for a moment, before he blew out a breath and nodded.

"Yeah, I know, I do tend to do that where John is concerned. I just -" Sherlock didn't need to finish his sentence. He shook his head, in an attempt to focus and pulled over the stack of cases. "Just how old are these exactly?" He blew dust from the top folder and tried to grin at Lestrade.

"Oh, probably from before you were born, should be fun."

"Oooh, the dark ages, then, can't wait."

 

Mycroft and John sat at the kitchen table, stirring their coffee. "What did you make of the manor, then? I'm assuming Sherlock never told you before he took you there?"

John shook his head as he recalled his first reaction to Sherlock's childhood home, and managed to grin."I can't imagine growing up there, it must have been amazing; Lizzie and Ollie, they were lovely to us."

"I didn't know anything else, John, I thought most kids had what we had. Of course, I learned early on that most children weren't as fortunate to know they were loved and cared for like we were."

John tried to look away from Mycroft's eyes, but knew he was seeing even more than Sherlock could, or more than Sherlock was willing to acknowledge. "No, some of us were not as lucky."

"Let him be there for you, John. Talk to him. He knows you are in pain, and he -"

"He doesn't do well with that, I know, if our past history is anything to go by." John smirked into his coffee, then put it down. "I don't want to put all of this on his shoulders, so much he doesn't know. I just tried to bury everything, it's been over 25 years, Mycroft, I didn't think I'd ever have to deal with this, and to have to do this now, when we should be happy, it's a bit much."

"He wants to help, John. I could see it in his eyes when he walked through the door; he can't help it, he feels your pain, whether he understands it or not, it's just how he's always been. Ever since he was a child, he has shouldered the emotions of those he loves, especially the pain, the sadness. That's why I tried to, I know I was wrong now, I tried to get him to shut that part of himself down. He's paid for that blunder for such a long time." Mycroft took a sip of his lukewarm coffee, then held it in his hands in an effort to warm them up. "I've never thanked you for -"

"No need to thank me, Mycroft, he -" their eyes met and no other words were necessary.


	51. Chapter 51

John picked up the post from the table where Mrs. Hudson always left it, and flipped through the envelopes before coming across handwriting he hadn't seen since, he couldn't actually remember the last time he had seen his mum's beautiful script. He lifted the cream envelope to his face and took a deep breath in, she still wore the same perfume, Sherlock would know it, all he knew was that it was the scent of his mum, the scent of what he had once thought of home. He shook his head and made his way slowly upstairs, the door was unlocked as usual, Sherlock was home then, they always locked it when they went out now, just in case. He walked into the flat and closed the door behind him, then leaned against it and closed his eyes. He let the scents of old experiments, musty books and tea wash over him; when he opened his eyes again, his true home, his family, was standing in front of him.

"John?" Sherlock spoke quietly, then reached out and placed his hand on John's chest. "I'm here."

"I can't open it, Sherlock. I thought, I thought I could deal with this, it's just a piece of paper, they are just words, but I don't know if I can do this -" he leaned forward against Sherlock's shoulder, the envelope crumpling in his fist.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John and held on as his friend and lover wept. "I have you, John. You are safe, John. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you, I promise. Never again, John." He moved them carefully to the couch and sat down, then helped John to lay down. At first John was curled up tightly in a ball in Sherlock's arms, afraid to breathe, afraid to relax, but gradually, helped by Sherlock's still, yet strong presence, he stretched out and the silent tears eventually stopped. 

"Read it, please?" John opened his hand slowly and held out the crushed paper.

Sherlock bit his lip and looked into John's wrecked face for a long moment, then nodded and took it from John's trembling hand. He knew better than to ask him if he was sure. He flattened it on the cushion next to him, then tore it open. Normally, he would examine something like this carefully, to know something about the author before reading the contents, but, this wasn't an artifact of a case, it was a clue to the very workings of John's heart.

 

Dear John -

I cannot tell you how many times I have written to you over the years, asking, no, begging for your forgiveness, only to rip up my words, knowing how empty and hollow they would seem to you. After all this time, you must think me a coward, if not something worse, for not reaching out before now. Your sister has been so patient with me over the last few months, and somehow found a way to - no. That isn't fair to you, or to her.

Do you remember, when you were little, and your father was away for long periods of time, and you felt safe enough to curl up in my lap, and I would tell you stories?

John closed his eyes and took a shattered breath in and nodded.

We had such adventures, you and I; Harry was asleep in her crib, and I would tell you stories of brave knights who fought together side by side. They defeated the monsters, saved villages, rescued those who needed rescuing. The next day, you would get out your crayons and draw me pictures, you always knew some day you would find your knight, your partner, someone to slay the dragons with. It seems you have found him, and I couldn't be happier for you, John. Truly. I wish I had been stronger, strong enough to protect you, that was my job as a parent, to keep you safe, and I failed you, so completely. I don't know the words that can possibly tell you how truly sorry I am. I don't deserve your forgiveness, I know that. I just want you to know how much I love you.

My love to you and your Sherlock,

Mum

 

"Damn." John slowly let go of the breath he had been holding and rubbed his face then turned to meet Sherlock's glistening eyes. "I had forgotten. Funny the things we remember and those moments that get lost somehow. She was a lovely storyteller, she kept track of the characters and what had happened the night before, she never forgot, never wrote it down, it was all in her head. How did I forget, Sherlock?"

"I don't know, John," Sherlock whispered. "I'm guessing you get your gift for spinning a yarn from her, so I don't think you forgot completely, you've been carrying her around with you, all this time." He looked into John's beautifully dark eyes and smiled softly, then bent over him and kissed him gingerly, nothing more than a brushing of John's lips with his own, but he felt John wrap his fingers into his curls, and pull him into a hungry, deeply passionate kiss, answering any doubts that Sherlock might have had with a love he had never experienced before.

Sherlock pulled away and felt the tears he had been holding onto finally let go. "John."

"I didn't know, Sherlock, how much I needed that from her, it's ridiculous, to want her blessing, but I did." He sat up carefully and took Sherlock's hands in his. "Thank you, for being here with me, for letting me need you. Every day, you manage to teach me how to love, I think I finally know how much you love me, but there isn't an end or a beginning for you, is there?" John finally looked up at Sherlock's tear stained face and shook his head. "Oh, love. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He took Sherlock into his arms and held him as Sherlock let all of the pain he had been carrying for John go at last. John kissed his damp curls as Sherlock's breathing finally calmed and John knew he was asleep. He managed to pull his phone from his pocket, and he stared at it for a moment, took a deep breath, then sent Harry a text.

 

Tell Mum I got her letter - J

I will - H

Please ask her to call me tomorrow if she wants to talk, I'm ready to listen - J

Thank you, John - H

No, Harry, thank you - J

 

"Love?"

"Hmmphhh?" Sherlock answered grumpily as John helped him to his feet.

"Come on, you can't sleep on the couch, bed for a bit, then I'll make us some dinner, yeah?"

"Hmmmkay."

John snorted, but kissed his love as he half carried him to bed. "I love you."

"I know, love you too."


	52. Chapter 52

John helped Sherlock to bed, then took off his damp and rumpled button down shirt, for once letting it stay where he dropped it and collapsed in the chair to untie his shoes. He paused and glanced over at the man who shared his bed, his life and his love so easily. Of course, it hadn't always been this way, it had taken so long for them to get to this place, so much time had been wasted; he knew the reasons why, and knew they had needed time to recover, understand and, yes, forgive one another, but, damn it, they should have always had this. He blinked away the last tears he would shed that day as he saw Sherlock pat the empty space next to him.

"Come to bed, John." 

John nodded and his fingers finally managed to remember how to work; he laid his shoes aside and tumbled into bed. He sighed contentedly as Sherlock snuggled tightly against him, his soft curls tickling his chin, his long legs all but tangled about him, securing them both to this time and place. Sherlock pressed his lips against John's chest then muttered, "We are here now, John. Now is our time -" John tightened his arms around Sherlock, pulling him closer and silently promised that after tomorrow, he would no longer dwell in the past. They slept for a couple of hours until Sherlock sat up suddenly with a sharp yell of pain; and John was reminded once again that no matter how much they both wished to leave their pasts behind them, what came before was always lurking beneath the surface.

"Sherlock, you are home, love. Baker Street, you are next to me in bed, you are home, love. Breathe, Sherlock. That's it, I'm going to touch your hand, love, there, see it's me -"

"John? John."

"Yes, love."

Sherlock turned and looked into John's face, then finally let his body relax. "You're safe. You're here."

John carefully lifted Sherlock's hand and held it against his cheek. "I'm here, love, promise."

Sherlock took another slow breath and let it go, and tried to smile. "God, I'm starving, I think I can make some beans on toast, we still have bread, right?"

"Can you tell me?" John covered Sherlock's trembling hand with his own, and watched Sherlock's eyes change.

Sherlock shook his head. "Can't, I'm sorry. New one, not sure where - doesn't matter. Beans, John?"

John sighed and moved Sherlock's fingers to his lips and kissed them softly. "Beans, love." He gingerly wrapped his arms around Sherlock and waited until he rested his head against his shoulder, then kissed his sweat drenched curls. "I'm here, love, I'm here." They sat together until Sherlock snorted, and John couldn't help but laugh. Sherlock sat back and met John's eyes, again, then kissed him as if he could live on kisses alone, but then his stomach growled and he rolled his eyes. 

"I'm sorry."

John shook his head and got out of bed, then offered Sherlock his hand. "Nope. You don't ever have to apologise for waking me up, Sherlock, I'm here, for everything, for all of it, yeah?"

Sherlock nodded and took John's hand, and slowly moved from the bed. "You know I love you?"

"Uhmmhmm, one of the many perks of living with you, that and your wizardry in the kitchen. Think you promised me some beans on toast, hmm?" John grinned up at Sherlock and finally saw a smile reach his eyes.

"You do like to live dangerously, don't you."

"Every day, love, every day."


	53. Chapter 53

"You've got to be kidding me." Sherlock put his hand out and searched for his mobile blindly, hoping John wouldn't wake up. He pulled it back under the covers and growled at it. "Yes! Better be good."

"Mr. Holmes?"

Damn.

"Mrs. Watson? I'm so sorry."

There was a long pause, he heard her clear her throat; nervous, then, unsure. No. Stop deducing. This is John's mum. Just wait for her.

"I understand from Harriet that John was ready to speak to me."

"Oh."

"He sent her a text last night. I was wondering -"

Wait.

" - if -"

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"You're not going to make this easy are you?" He could hear a bit of a smirk on the other end.

"Honestly?"

"Please?"

"I've told him he needs to do what's best for him. I don't know what that is, but if he -"

John took the phone from him and gave him a look that asked him to stay.

"Mum."

"John? You sound -"

"Older?"

"Just like I thought you would."

John leaned into Sherlock's chest and mumbled. "I'm getting married, Mum."

"I know, dear. He sounds -"

"What?" Sherlock heard John's voice change and almost took the phone from him.

"remarkable."

John let out a harsh breath and whispered as he looked into Sherlock's eyes,"He is, Mum. He's the reason I'm still here. I'd like you to come into town and meet him."

The silence at the other end was deafening.

"Mum?"

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John and held him as they waited.

"John, it's Harry. Uhm, yeah, you managed to make Mum cry, wasn't sure she knew how to do that. What did you say to her?"

"I invited her to come and meet Sherlock."

"Oh."

"Clara's already met him, if only briefly; you two are welcome to come as well, I was thinking dinner. If it's too much I understand. I'm too old to play games, Harry. I want my family, such as it is, to be there when I marry the man I love."

"Johnny. Next weekend works for us."

"Good. Tell her I said - whatever people say -"

"Yeah, I will. Thank you."

John turned off the phone and buried his face against Sherlock's chest. "What have I done?"

Sherlock tightened his arms around him and kissed his hair. "The bravest thing I've ever seen you do, John."

John snorted and pulled away to look into Sherlock's eyes. "Braver than eating last night's dinner?"

"Okay, second bravest." Sherlock threw a pillow at him as John rolled out of bed.

"What time is it anyway?"

"6 AM."

"Damn." John got back into bed and pulled the covers over his head. Sherlock's lips found that magical spot, which made John purr. "I don't purrrrrrr...."

"Yeah, you do."

"I -"

"Yeah, me too, John, me too."


	54. Chapter 54

"Sure you have to go in?" Sherlock sighed as John kissed him. He was showered and dressed, and there was coffee on the bedside table.

"Short-staffed, you know I'd rather stay here, but I've already missed time, and with the wedding -"

Sherlock nodded and searched John's face carefully. "Text me, if you, uhm."

John sat on the edge of the bed and touched Sherlock's face gently. "I'm okay, truly. I think it will hit me later, but I think it will be okay. She was right you know."

"About?" Sherlock closed his eyes as he felt John's fingers trace his cheekbones.

"I found my knight, my partner, my love. I can do this, because I know, no matter what happens, you are by my side, and that makes all the difference, you know that?"

Sherlock kissed John's fingers as he nodded again. "I know, John."

"I love you,"

"I love you."

John grinned at him, and he got up and walked out of the bedroom. Sherlock heard him whistling as he walked through the flat and out the door. He closed his eyes and pulled out his mobile.

 

"Sherlock?"

"Lizzie, you busy?"

"No, what's wrong, sweetie?"

"John, he talked to his mum this morning."

"That's good isn't it?"

"Not sure, he hasn't seen her since he left home at eighteen."

"Oh."

"And I'm going to meet her and his sister next weekend."

"Oh. I see."

Sherlock fiddled with the sheet and sighed, "I don't know if - if -"

"Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and knew he was in for it.

"They will love you. If they don't, they are fools. Don't you dare. John loves you, I spent only a few days with you two, and I know just how gone he is on you, and I know you will move mountains for him, if he asked, you already have. No pity party mister. I've just sent out the invites to the village as you asked, Bits is already planning a trip to London for this week so we can figure out what we are going to wear to this party you two are throwing. I will call you with details - hold on - here, she wants to talk."

"Sherly - sorry, Ollie can't stop talking about you - listen, we will be up there in a couple days, we are going to take you and that doctor of yours to dinner, and spoil you rotten. Alright?"

"Yes, Bits. Everything okay?"

"Better than. I can't believe I stayed away so long. I don't think I'll ever be able -"

"Just be good to her, I know I don't need to tell you that, but -"

"I promise. You just hang in there. His people will love you. If they don't, that's their loss, toots."

"John's too, that's what I'm afraid of. I don't want him to lose anything because of me."

"Sherlock, they have missed more than half his life, they chose that. You are his life now. You are giving him a gift by helping him do this. No matter how it ends up, yeah? Liz wants the phone back. Love you."

"Better?"

"Yeah, just needed a swift kick in the arse, is all."

"You are lovely, you know that?"

Sherlock shook his head and bit his lip.

"You are, now get out of that bed, and work on that wedding or solve a case or two. You got this, love, yeah?"

"Yeah. Got it, right. Thank you."

"Anytime, you know that. I'm so - I'm just happy to have you back, sweetie."

"Love you."

"Love you, too."

 

Sherlock ended the call and threw off the covers. He put his feet on the floor and grabbed the coffee, still hot somehow. He wondered at how the emotional stuff always made him more tired than anything physical he had been through. Perhaps because he knew he had recovered from the physical injuries, the emotional wounds were still healing. "Damn." He shook his head and picked up his mobile again.

 

Got time at lunch? - S

What's up? - G

Wedding stuff, you know - S

Sure, be there at noonish? - G

Thanks - S

 

Shower. Food. John would expect him to eat today. Get up. Too much to do.

 

You okay? - J

Yeah. - S

Liar. Want me to come home? - J

No. I'm fine. Have plenty to do. - S

Sherlock. - J

Just nervous. Don't want to let you down. - S

You never have. You won't. Is it the nightmare? - J

A bit. Don't understand it yet. - S

Eat for me, yeah? - J

I will, promise. - S

I love you. - J

Love you. - S


	55. Chapter 55

"Brought lunch, sandwiches, figured you'd forget to eat."

Sherlock looked up from his 'To Do' list and blinked. "It's noon already?"

"Yeah, I knocked, but -"

"Sorry."

"What's going on?"

"Working on invitations, have to get them out soon."

"Yeah?" Lestrade looked at his friend's face and prodded a bit. "And?"

"I'm meeting John's mum and sister next weekend."

"Shit." Lestrade sat down on the couch and pulled out the sandwiches. "Eat. I'll put on the kettle." He got up and filled the kettle and turned it on, then walked back into the front room and sat down again. "You are the only family Myc and I have, outside of Lizzie, I mean John will be too, but, with my parents gone, and yours - we never had to deal with family that might not quite get it, get us."

"His mum must have all these ideas about me, just from the press, and if she reads the blog, I'm not sure who she is expecting to meet."

"You, she's expecting to meet you, the person who loves her son. Be that, because that's essentially who you are, who you have been for a long time, now."

Sherlock glanced at the man next to him and smiled for the first time all day. "Thanks, Greg. No, really. Thanks. So. Should I invite Donovan to the wedding?" He unwrapped his sandwich and took a bite.

Lestrade laughed and thought for a moment. "She'd probably storm into my office and ask me if it was a practical joke. And then she'd go out and get it framed. Seriously, she's really happy for you guys, yeah, why not? Just imagine, Donovan in Sussex, meeting Lizzie."

"And Bits."

"Bits?" Greg took another bite of sandwich and went to turn off the kettle.

"Her girlfriend? Seems not the right term. They were going to live together in London in their twenties, but, -"

"Oh, yeah, Myc told me you did a good thing for Lizzie, what's she like?"

"She's a hoot, and Lizzie's happy, really happy, yeah, Bits will knock Donovan's socks off."

Greg came back with two cups of sweet tea, and watched Sherlock's hand tremble a bit as he took it. "What else, something you aren't telling me."

"Nightmare, scared the hell out of John, but he recovered pretty quickly. A new one, not about my time away, it's him as a kid, Greg. It's like I could see him back then, I couldn't help him. I couldn't get to him. I'm just afraid, Greg."

"Look at me, hey." He took the cup from Sherlock's hands and put it on the table. "He's an adult now, you're here, he's safe. Don't keep this from him, he'll know something's worrying you, he always does."

"I know, I just don't want to bring up things that he doesn't want to talk about."

"Maybe he needs to, maybe you are the person he can tell, finally?"

Sherlock picked up his tea and blew on it, then took a sip, and nodded. "I hope so, Greg, just hope I'm the right person."


	56. Chapter 56

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***possible triggers, description of families suffering through abuse***

Sherlock spent the rest of the day finalizing the invitation list, tweaking the menus, and trying to think of how to talk to John about what he saw the night before. He was so lost in thought that he didn't hear John quietly enter the flat, hang up his coat and slip his shoes off. John knelt by the couch and laid a hand on Sherlock's knee before he registered John's presence.

"John?"

"Hey."

Sherlock saw in his face that it had been a long, hard, day and put down his phone. "Tell me what I can do?"

"Just hold me?" John whispered.

Sherlock nodded and lay down on the couch, pulling John against his chest. "Breathe, love. Tell me."

"There was a kid today. His mum said he was complaining about stomach pains. I examined him and -" John blew out a long breath and tried to continue, but his voice faltered.

Sherlock held onto him as John's body convulsed into sobs. "You are safe, John. I'm here. I'm here to listen if you need to tell me, let me help, please?"

John pushed himself up, and Sherlock sighed as John searched his exhausted eyes; he looked away for a moment before he felt John's hand on his face. "Tell me, Sherlock, what is it?"

"The nightmare, last night, it wasn't about my time away, it was about you; I could see you as a child, and I couldn't help you, John, I couldn't stop what was what happening to you, all I could do was watch, I couldn't do anything for you then. But, maybe, I can help you now?"

John kissed him softly and shook his head. "You help just by being here, holding me, letting me know I'm okay as I am."

"John."

"You aren't going to let this go, are you?"

"I can't. You know there is nothing you can tell me that will stop me from loving you, yes?"

John lay back down in Sherlock's arms and closed his eyes. "Today, this boy, he was eleven, thin, tired eyes. I knew before I tried to listen to his heart. I saw it in his mum's eyes. They were my mum's. Resigned, scared, but she thought she had no choice but to stay. I examined him as much as I could without touching him. He knew I could tell what was happening to him. I gave his mum a number to a shelter, and gave him my number. I never do that, but I did today. I know he won't use it, he's too scared. Like I was. I thought I deserved it, Sherlock, like I had done something to deserve his hatred of me. I know now that I didn't, that no one deserves that, but then? There was no one I could tell, though it felt like everyone saw. He was smart, never hit my face, never anywhere anyone else would see, if anyone ever asked, he could deny he ever touched me. My doctors knew, but we moved around a lot, so every time there was a chance of getting help, my mum would move us, to another apartment, another rental, another town. She could have left him when he was away, so many times, but she was too afraid. Afraid he would find us. She didn't have friends, never had a job, she depended on him for everything. She was brilliant, like I told you, she could have written stories, been a teacher, done something, it took her this long to leave him, even after we were gone."

Sherlock ran his fingers down John's back as he spoke, coaxing the words from the person he loved most in the world, hoping against hope that this act would help to heal them both at least a tiny bit. He knew more nightmares would come, but he knew they would be together, and perhaps that was enough for now.

"This is going to be hard, isn't it?" John asked him quietly after a long moment of silence.

Sherlock kissed his hair and held him, trying to find the right words, before finally whispering, "Yeah, I think so, but I'm not going anywhere, John, I'm here for anything and everything you need from me, just don't be afraid to tell me, and I will try to do the same. This is something we have to do together, yeah?"

 

Mycroft washed up after dinner, then sat down at the table next to Greg. "You're quiet tonight."

"Sherlock, he and John - they are having dinner with John's mum and sister next weekend."

"I didn't know -"

"You didn't know, thought you knew everything there was to know."

Mycroft gave him the look, as he picked up Greg's hand and brought it to his lips.

"John left home at eighteen, hasn't seen them since."

"Ah."

"Yeah, Sherlock is trying to help him, but you know how he is, he takes it all on, doesn't want John to be in pain. But, I think he knows this time he can't stop John from going through hell."

"At least he's here this time." Mycroft spoke quietly to himself.

"Yeah, he's here, Myc, he's here, and safe this time. They'll be okay, it's just going to take time."

 

"Tell me what you want to do."

John sat up and rubbed his face. "I want lots and lots of dumplings, and I want you. Just you."

Sherlock nodded and kissed John's forehead. "That I can do. Crap telly?"

John shook his head. "Just you, just want you."

"And lots and lots of dumplings."

John snuggled back against Sherlock's chest and closed his eyes, as Sherlock ordered lots and lots of dumplings.

"Half an hour, John."

"Hmmm."

Sherlock wrapped himself tightly around John, and tried to let go of everything, except the man in his arms.


	57. Chapter 57

The dumplings were eaten; Sherlock ate sparingly, as usual when he was working on a problem, but made sure John had his fill.

"I'm never eating again." John groaned and collapsed into Sherlock's lap.

"Uhmhmmm. I've heard that before." Sherlock grinned down at him and kissed a bit of sauce from John's lips.

John reached up and touched Sherlock's lips with a single finger. "Listen to me? Please?"

Sherlock nodded and waited, trying not to hold his breath, needing to let John tell him what he needed, not try to guess. Guessing had always got him into trouble in the past.

"Breathe, love." John smiled at him, trying to coax a smile in return.

"I am. Trying to."

"I'm still me." Sherlock opened his mouth in order to speak but John shook his head. "I know you want to protect me, take care of me. I'm still the sassy smart arse who gets cranky when you leave body parts in the salad drawer. I just, I need you to treat me the same way as you always have, can you do that for me?"

"I don't know any other way, John. I just know I love you even more now, now that you are letting me in here." He bent over John and kissed his forehead. "I always felt like I was missing something, even though I thought I knew everything about you, you needed to tell me, and I didn't know how to ask, didn't know how to wait for you until now." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I want to be what you need, John, and I'm not sure how to be that for you."

John was silent for a moment, then whispered, "You are enough as you are, love. You are more than I ever thought I deserved, more than I thought I would ever have, and I'm sorry if I have ever made you feel less than what you are. No, you aren't perfect, I've never asked you to be, god knows I'm not, but you are perfect for me. Do you know that?"

Sherlock blinked at him and shook his head after a moment. "There was never anyone before you, no one, John. I had my family, but no one else, hmm, no one ever saw me as anything but odd, a freak, and I believed I didn't need or want anyone. I thought if I tried to love someone I would just get hurt, and - I didn't think I was someone, someone else could love, especially not someone like you. I didn't know what I meant to you until the day I left. When I heard your voice, and knew, knew that you loved me, and I thought it was too late, far too late, and even if I came back, you wouldn't, couldn't want what was left of me. But, you - let me, please?" John nodded, wondering when the tears would finally stop for them, today wasn't the day, it seemed. "I want to give you back what you gave to me, so easily, or at least it seemed like it was, you just let me take my time, let me heal in my own way, and I feel like I've never thanked you for that enough. I want to be that for you, if you let me."

John sat up and took Sherlock into his arms and held him. "You already are, love, you already are. I, just, love you so much."

"I'm so tired, John."

"I know, love, let's go to bed, hmm?"

 

John rolled over and caught Sherlock's phone before it fell off the bed.

"Yeah?"

"John?"

"Mycroft?"

"Sorry to wake you, I just was worried about him, wanted to be sure he was -"

"He's sleeping."

"Good. If you ever need anything, John, please -"

"We're okay, Mycroft, it will just take me, us, some time, but thank you."

"Right, night, then."

"Good night, Mycroft."

 

"Wha - "

"Your brother. Good intentions."

"Ah. Yes, come here."

"Hmmm...oh...god..."


	58. Chapter 58

The week passed somewhat without incident, though John was finding evidence of Sherlock's nerves in the multitudes of swans that were slowly taking over the flat.

"Sherlock?"

"Hmm?"

"Why are there swans in the microwave? I mean it's better than eyeballs to be sure, but -"

"Running out of room for them."

"Ah. Have you decided on what napkins you will use for the final ones?"

"Down to two final linens, one folds better, the other is more, uhm, swan colour, the white is just more swan."

"Got it."

John's phone vibrated on the coffee table and they both jumped.

"Text."

"Yeah."

"I'll get it if you -"

"No, it's okay." John picked it up and looked at the message. "Tomorrow at seven, Angelo's is fine. They know where it is. I was halfway hoping they'd cancel," he mumbled into his coffee.

"You don't have to, if you aren't ready. It's okay." Sherlock threw another swan on the pile growing on the couch then laid a hand on John's thigh, trying to ground them both.

John shook his head, "No, I need to do this, for us, for me, and they need to be heard. I need to know, Sherlock." He put down his coffee and laid his hand over Sherlock's. "Thank you, for doing this, for understanding. I know how hard it's been this week. No, I do."

"I thought -" Sherlock started, then stopped and looked down at their hands. "I didn't want to make it harder for you."

"I know." John lifted Sherlock's face and smiled at him, "I know, love." Sherlock leaned into John's shoulder and closed his eyes. "I've taken today off, what do you want to do? It's a beautiful day - " John kissed Sherlock's curls and whispered, "Come on, let's go back to bed, up we go. I'll turn off the phones. We'll just - I have you, love." He led Sherlock back to their room, where he quietly undressed them both.

"John?"

"Yeah."

"I can do this, you know. This thing, tomorrow. I can. For you, for us. I know how important it is for you."

"I know you can, I also know it's a lot that I'm asking of you. I don't know what to expect, and to ask you to be there with me is a leap of faith for you, I know that." John kissed Sherlock gently, then offered him his hand. "Let's just be here, together, yeah? We don't have to talk, just be here with me?"

Sherlock nodded and took John's hand, following him back to bed where they spent the day sleeping, kissing and cuddling, but mostly simply being together, not trying to fix anything, or think about anything at all, until Sherlock's stomach rumbled.

"Hmmpppph?"

"I think I'm a bit peckish." Sherlock stifled a yawn.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Uhmhmm. I think Indian?"

"Sounds perfect, go order and I'll wait right here, keep your spot warm." John dove back under the covers and sighed contentedly.

"Arse."

"Yes, but -"

"a lovely one, it is. Yes." Sherlock grinned as he picked up his phone and placed their regular order.

 

"Five after." John mumbled as he checked his phone again.

"They'll be here, John."

"How do you -" he stopped as three women walked into Angelo's looking a bit lost and nervous. He wasn't sure what to do, so he simply held Sherlock's hand tighter and waited for them to approach their table.

"Told you." Sherlock squeezed John's hand, then let it go as he stood. "Clara, nice to see you again; Harry, I'd know you were a Watson from a mile away. Don't worry, it's a good thing. Mrs. Watson, I'm Sherlock, I'm very happy to -"

John's mum cleared her throat and put out her hand. "Please, Sherlock, I'm Sylvia. I'm so glad to finally meet you."

Sherlock took her hand, and held it gently for a moment. He looked into her face and saw John's intelligent eyes flash back at him. "Will you join us, please? We weren't sure what you would like to eat, but the garlic bread is usually safe." He walked around the table and pulled out Sylvia's chair making sure she was comfortable before he reseated himself and grabbed John's hand again. It had curled into a tight fist under the table, so Sherlock held on until John's fingers relaxed and threaded once again with Sherlock's. They took a breath together and Sherlock signaled to Angelo they were ready to order. 

John looked across the table at his mum and cleared his throat. "The lasagna is very good, Mum, almost as good as yours."

Sylvia raised her eyes and met John's, then looked up at Angelo and nodded. "Lasagna for everyone, then?" Angelo asked with a smile. Sherlock winked at him and Angelo disappeared.

Harry looked around the table and mumbled, almost to herself. "I never thought this would happen, all of us together, even if it is in a restaurant and we have no idea what the fuck to say to one another." 

John laughed, let go of Sherlock's hand, and pulled his sister into a tight bear hug. She froze for a moment, then wrapped her arms around him and tucked her face into his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Johnny. I've missed you more than I can tell you."

John whispered into her hair as he held her, "I've missed you too, Harry, so much."


	59. Chapter 59

It was nearly nine o'clock when they finally left Angelo's. Sylvia, Harry and Clara were staying at a B & B a few blocks away, and the weather had managed to hold, so John and Sherlock offered to walk them back. Once they had made their long goodbyes to Angelo, John hooked arms with Sylvia, and Harry grabbed Clara's hand then tentatively slipped her other hand into Sherlock's.

"Thank you, for this. Tonight." Harry muttered against Sherlock's shoulder.

"It had nothing to do with me, it -" Sherlock looked down into Harry's eyes and stopped speaking.

"You could have stopped him, and you know it."

Sherlock turned to look at Clara and they both laughed. "You know better than anyone, it's nearly impossible to stop a Watson from doing something he or she wants to do."

"He's got you there, Harry," Clara snorted, as she squeezed Harry's hand a bit tighter.

"Okay, yeah, but you could have made it hard on him. Tonight would have been a disaster without you here. So, thank you."

Sherlock nodded. "I love him, very much, Harry. I have done enough in the past to hurt him, and I have no intention of seeing him hurt ever again."

Harry was silent for a moment, then spoke quietly. "Understood, you have my word."

"Good. Now that story...it was you, wasn't it, not John...."

Sylvia smiled at John as she heard the laughter behind them. "He's not quite what I expected; no, I mean, he's lovely. Damn, I'm saying this wrong, John. I can see why you love him as you obviously do. And he thinks you hung the moon. He's so gentle with you." Her words faded and John stopped walking.

"What?"

"He knows. Why you left home."

"Of course."

"And he still let you -"

"Mum, Sherlock doesn't let me do anything, but he didn't discourage me from meeting with you." They began walking again, a bit slower, in unison. "He lost his parents a long time ago; he doesn't have a lot of family left, one brother and an aunt, and he helped me understand that family is important, even when - he knows me well enough to know I'd never forgive myself if I didn't give you, all of us, a chance."

They walked in silence the rest of the way, as they listened to Sherlock tell them about a case that never made it to the blog. Sylvia looked over at John and he shrugged and rolled his eyes. "Not quite true...but close enough." They stopped in front of the B & B and John kissed Sylvia's cheek. "Thank you for showing up, I wasn't sure -"

"I know, and I am so sorry - damn, that's too easy to say, isn't it? May I write you again, please?"

John nodded and she smiled shyly at him, "May I?"

John nodded again as she wrapped her arms around him and held him for a long moment before letting him go. "Hmm. We are going to be in town for a couple of days, if you want to have lunch or -"

"Just call us and we'll see what we can do," Sherlock said with a smile as he took her hand. "Thank you, for coming here, Sylvia, it meant a lot to both of us." He turned and bowed to Harry and Clara, "Ladies, thank you, for a lovely evening, and for the stories, now I know why -"

Harry and Clara waved to them as they followed Sylvia inside. Sherlock put an arm around John's waist and let him lean against him as he nodded a good night to them.

"Why what?" John found his voice again, as Sherlock turned him towards home.

"Never mind."

"Sherlock."

"Why you hate mushrooms so much."

"Oh, god, she told you - damn..."

"Home?"

"Please."

 

Sherlock put an unusually quiet John to bed, climbed in next to him, and picked up his mobile.

 

We survived. - S

John okay? - G

He's processing, I think, but he needed to do it. - S

Thank you. - S

What for? - G

For listening. Turning off both mobiles in case Myc worries. - S

I'll tell him. You did a good thing for him, for them. - G

I hope so. But, thanks. - S

 

Mycroft looked up from his desk. "Are they okay?"

"Seem to be, I think Sherlock is a bit wary, but that's to be expected. He doesn't want John to get hurt again, but doesn't want to be overprotective, but it sounds like it went well."

"How do you know?"

"If it hadn't we definitely would know, you know how Sherlock is when it comes to John," Greg grinned at him and walked across the room. "No more overtime tonight. Bed."

"Thought you'd never ask."


	60. Chapter 60

"So...how did it go?"

"I, hmm, I'm cautiously optimistic, Lizzie, but -"

"But?"

"I'm afraid to trust her completely. Harry and Clara seem really happy together, Harry looked healthy, healthier than I've ever seen her. But, uhm, Mum -"

Lizzie waited for him to find the words, as Bits worked on the morning dishes.

"I mean, I know it's been over twenty-five years, but I guess I somehow expected her not to look -"

"Twenty-five years older?"

John took the coffee Sherlock offered him and nodded before remembering Lizzie couldn't see him.

"Yeah. I just realized how much time we've lost."

Lizzie watched Bits at the sink for another moment, then walked outside. "You remember when we were in town this week, at lunch, how Bits and I were talking about how different London was compared to when we were young? I realized when I got home, back here, that different isn't necessarily bad, who knows if Bits and I would have lasted if I had made a different choice? We wouldn't have now, we are older and wiser and know exactly what we want, and we can be together in a way that we couldn't have back then. Point I'm making, you are different, she is different. You both have pasts that make it difficult to see each other as you are now. I'm sure she still sees you as you were when you left, a very angry eighteen year old and you see her as someone who -"

"Who allowed me to be abused." John whispered and held the phone away for a moment, then held it to his ear again and listened.

"She has found a way to walk away finally, and is beginning to have her own life. She realizes how much she has lost, by not knowing you. You don't owe her anything, John. Not a thing. But I think you also know how much you have missed her, the good parts you are beginning to remember. And it scares you."

"Yeah. You have no idea how much it scares me that I want to get to know her. I want to trust her. I do, Lizzie. She was so different when our father wasn't around, she was funny, and kind, and she would disappear when he was home. I don't know who she is now."

"Do you want to know?"

John paused before he answered and leaned back into Sherlock's arms.

"Yeah, Lizzie, I do. I want to give her a chance, I need to give myself a chance to know her, know myself better, maybe. Here's Sherlock. Thank you, Lizzie. Love you."

"Love you, too."

"How is he?"

Sherlock watched him leave and closed his eyes. "I think he's okay. He's relieved, that his mum seems to accept me, accept us, and he saw how she is with Harry and Clara. So, I think he's hopeful, but a bit unsure."

"How are you, love?"

"I'm okay, she was kind to me, but not -"

"Overly squishy?"

"Exactly. John is a lot like her, she was trying to observe us, see how we treat each other before she made a judgment about how we are. But I think she could see right away, maybe our body language told her. She visibly relaxed as I took her hand, she must have felt that I wasn't threatened by her, or something. I think she can tell that John is loved. And that's all that matters to me, is that she knows that."

Lizzie was silent on the other end.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed. "Okay, yeah, maybe I'd like to be able to get to know her, know John better from her - I don't want John to lose anything, Lizzie, if she decides she doesn't like me."

"How can she not like you?"

"Not many people do."

"You are an acquired taste, love. But John loves you, and she will see you through his eyes, given the chance to get to know him. You are amazing, love, to give both of them this chance -"

"It's so hard, Lizzie -"

"I know, I know it is, you have to let him risk getting hurt, and it scares you. But you know he needs to try, don't you?"

Sherlock closed his eyes and took a breath. "Yeah, I know. I know. I just want -"

"You want a guarantee that she won't hurt him."

"Yeah."

"You know humans are programmed to hurt those that we love the most."

Sherlock smirked, but somehow it made him calm down a bit. "That's a bit cynical for someone who has recently been reunited -"

"I know better than anyone, hmm?"

Sherlock took his time answering. "Yeah, I guess you do," John walked back in the room then and he continued, "We both know, don't we, all too well. You two will be back in town for your fittings in a couple of weeks, yes?"

"Yes, love. I'll let you go, give John our love, yes?"

"Always."

Sherlock ended the call and took John into his arms. "Do you -"

"Damn, it never stops." John picked up the mobile and answered it, "Yes? Oh, Mum. Hi. Lunch?"

Sherlock nodded into his hair and John leaned into him once again, as he closed his eyes. "Yes, Mum, we'd like that very much. Noon? Sounds good. Anywhere you want, just let us know. Yeah, I, uhm, I love you, too."

 

Harry held Sylvia in her arms for the second time in ten days, as she wept quietly against her daughter's strong shoulder.


	61. Chapter 61

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just a sweet bit...

They were about to head out to lunch, when John stopped Sherlock from opening the door.

"What? Something on my face?"

"No, love. I've been trying to find you something ever since you put this ring on my finger, and I finally figured it out."

"John? -"

John put his hand into his pocket and pulled out a well-abused box. "I didn't find a ring that could truly do your beautiful hand justice, so, I hope -" he pulled his dog tags from the box and Sherlock fell to his knees and bowed his head. "I hope you will wear these, and know I don't think I will ever have the words to truly express to you how much I love and respect you." John bit his lip as he undid the chain then closed it again around Sherlock's neck, then stood back and waited. After a long, silent moment, Sherlock cradled the tags in his hands and kissed them, then placed them under his shirt.

"Sherlock?" John knelt in front of him, and gently lifted his face. "Oh, love."

"I'm fine, no, I'm, damn. I - John. I wish there was something that I could say that would tell you - I just don't know what I would do without you in my life, John. I. You are my heart, John Watson, and I love you more than you will ever understand." He got to his feet, then helped John to stand, then kissed him softly, sweetly and deep enough to make John weak in the knees, but Sherlock caught him, before he went down. "Sorry, I just -"

"Yeah, uhm, that, all that." John mumbled against Sherlock's chest. "All that, love."

They stood quietly for a moment, then Sherlock mumbled. "We should go, before we are more than fashionably late."

"Right." 

"Where are we going?"

"Dim Sum, if you can believe it."

"Really?" Sherlock snorted and grinned at John.

"Yeah, really."

"I promise not to deduce the fortunes."

"Uh-huh, sure."

"Okay, maybe just one or two."


	62. Chapter 62

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two letters will be coming once I can get littlest to take a nap.

They got there eight and a half minutes late, to find Sylvia alone at the table.

"Mum? Sorry, we're late -"

She looked up at him and smiled shyly. "No, it's fine, have you two done this dim sum before? The girls are freshening up, they said to go ahead and order, but, uhm, I don't know what anything means -" She indicated the menu in front of her, clearly all in Chinese.

Sherlock nodded. "Allow me, please, we are kind of regulars here." He got up and walked over to the kitchen, leaving John and Sylvia alone for the first time. 

"I was up all night writing you this, once I started I couldn't stop, but I hadn't brought paper with me, so it's all on the notepad paper they have, you know, next to the phone, just take your time to read it later, I will understand if this weekend is all you can do - no, you need to read this first before you make a decision; from what I've learned over the last few days, you are a fair and forgiving man, John. But, I know," She touched his face gently, and he was shocked to find he didn't flinch at her touch. "I know, it might be a bit too little, too late."

"Mum - I don't think it is ever too late, unless it is. But, I will read it, I promise."

"All set. I hope you are prepared to spend a few hours here, Mrs - Sylvia. This is the second place John and I ever had dinner together -"

"You mean, this is the place?"

"The very one. Funny -" Sherlock winked at John as Harry and Clara returned to the table.

"I might have had something to do with that," Harry admitted sheepishly. "I thought it might be more comfortable, I just remembered from the blog -"

"You know the blog?" John turned and looked at her in surprise.

Clara rolled her eyes. "Does she know the blog? I think she has the whole bloody thing memorized word for word." But she laughed and leaned into Harry to steal a kiss. Sherlock watched Sylvia's face from under his eyelashes and relaxed as she didn't react, just kept her eyes on John. He wanted to know more about her, wanted to know how John was able to be who he was in spite of everything, but was afraid to ask any questions, knowing anything he asked might be taken as interrogation.

Instead, she surprised him, turning to him and speaking softly, for his ears only. "I was going to study to be a chemist when I met - their father. I always loved trying to figure out how things worked and why they didn't always work when they should - I understand you -"

"I have degrees in Chemistry and Biology. I never did much with them, because, well, to be honest, my twenties were a bit misspent." Sylvia reached over and touched his hand, and their eyes met in complete understanding. He had lost his youth to grief and drugs, and her dreams were replaced with nappies and a roving military marriage.

"He didn't start out the way - he wasn't always, I think he saw things away from home, that he couldn't deal with, he began drinking more when John was born, and he never really stopped, his life was not what he -." She looked down at their hands and Sherlock laid his other hand over hers. He was beginning to see without needing to hear it from her. "I wrote John a letter, and I wrote you one too. Even if he - I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate how you love him." Sherlock watched John laughing with Harry over one of their more ridiculous adventures, then he looked back at her. She placed an envelope on the table and he picked it up and placed it carefully in his jacket pocket.

"I think, Sylvia, you'll find that John - no, hear me out, I don't usually speak for him, because he can do that for himself, but he wants his family back; I love him and would do anything for him, I already have, but I am not his memories like you are. I know there are bad ones that he wants to forget, but there are the good bits, the stories that make him who he is now, he couldn't be the man I love without you, and he deserves, you deserve to know who he is. Ah! First round is here, everyone ready?"


	63. Chapter 63

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heavy on the angst, promise to lighten up shortly.

Sherlock sat quietly as he observed John carefully collect the pages of his mother's letter and place them back into the envelope. John laid it on the coffee table and slowly pushed himself up to sitting. He took a breath and blew it out, then shook his head.

"It is interesting how black and white everything seemed at eighteen. I learned so long ago, life is mostly so many shades of grey."

"What can I do?" Sherlock reached out to touch him, but changed his mind.

John shrugged then turned to look at him. "Will you have a bath with me? I just need to sit and think or sit and not think for a while." He got to his feet and without looking back put his hand out, knowing Sherlock would take it, and follow without a word, which he did.

John turned the taps on, and added the lavender bubble bath which soon would need replenishing. "Seems we've gone through quite a bit in the last few weeks," he murmured, without expecting a response. He turned and began undressing Sherlock, not in his usual rushed manner, but with care, almost reverence, it seemed.

"John?"

He shook his head and divested himself of his t-shirt and shorts, then helped Sherlock into the tub, waiting until he heard him sigh deeply into the bubbles before slipping in, and once again finding sanctuary in Sherlock's waiting arms. He closed his eyes and thought back to the apology, or explanation, perhaps it was more of a confession his mum had crafted, he hadn't been able to quite decide what it was exactly, maybe as he read it more times, it would become clearer, but at the moment, he was unsure.

 

"I don't even know how to begin this letter properly, how to address you. So, I'll just begin then. I suppose I should begin by telling you a bit about my life, it may make my choices seem a bit more understandable if not excusable. This will no doubt seem to you an excuse, and it may be a bit of that. However, my intention is to try to explain myself to you; it is up to you what to do with these words, whether to use them as a reason to distance yourself from me once again, or to understand them as an apology I truly hope you will accept.

I grew up an only child, a well-loved and I suppose rather indulged only child. I had many advantages, especially the gift of knowing I was loved and understood, and in some ways, that made me a bit arrogant, I believed I knew everything, but doesn't everyone at that age? I did well in school and I was expected to take my place at Oxford, if you can believe it, when I met your father. It was a chance meeting, and I fell hard. He was different than anyone else I had ever met. He had a vulnerability about him then and I thought if I loved him enough, cared enough, he would be able to love me in return. I think at first he did. He saw me as unique. He liked my intelligence at first, enjoyed discussing how and why things worked, and debating with me, I think he saw me as a challenge. My parents warned me of course, and of course I didn't listen. I was convinced he loved me and I knew I loved him, and I truly believed that was enough. We married, he entered the military, as that is what his family had done for generations, tradition, he told me, and after a year, you were born. He was over the moon, so excited to have a son, to have you, but then he was away for a year, and saw how I had changed, and how much you needed from me. I had learned to do things on my own, as I had no choice, my parents had essentially disowned me; they never saw you, or Harry. They believed I had made a mistake and withdrew their love.

I want you to understand, John. I never considered you a mistake. Not ever. You were a lovely baby, a happy child until you were old enough to understand, that your father was at heart, an unhappy and angry person. Something made him hard, whether it was his own childhood, or his time away, I never knew. It took years before I saw how hard he was, and by then, I had given up. After Harry was born, he re-enlisted, coming home every so often, usually just to move us to a new town, and then leave again. When you were seven, he saw something in you, I think possibly it was happiness, I think it was that simple. It wasn't anything that you had done. It was never your fault, John. You never, ever deserved what he did or said to you, and you deserved someone who was emotionally present enough to protect you. I was not that person, and I will always regret that I wasn't. I tried to make it up to you, in those long periods when we had peace; the stories, the experiments, yes, you found them as exciting as I once had, and I taught you how to draw and paint, but that ended when he realized you enjoyed doing it as much as you enjoyed roughhousing and playing football. I knew I had failed you then, the first time he hit you. I should have left that night, taken you and Harry somewhere safe, but I had no safe place to go, and I made too many excuses for him, and for myself. I apologized to you for him, every time I had to tend to your injuries, I promised you it would end. It would only end when he would leave for a tour and it ended forever the day you left. I know how this must seem to you, now, so many years after -"

 

"John?"

"Hmmm?"

"Water is getting cold, you're about to turn into a prune."

"Damn. I'm so sorry, Sherlock."

"John. Turn around and look at me. Please?"

John turned and looked and found Sherlock looking at him in that way that told him he was loved, cherished and necessary. "How?"

"How what?"

"How do you manage to tell me without a single word how much you love me -"

"and she couldn't, not in hundreds of words?"

John bit his lip and nodded.

"I think it is hard for someone who has never felt truly loved to offer that gift to another, even if that person is your own child."

"What -?"

"I want to tell you what she wrote to me, it was very short and to the point."

 

"Dear Sherlock -

I hope you know I understand the gift you honour my son with is something rare. I knew from the first time I saw you look at him when we were at Angelo's that you loved him. Truly loved him with your whole heart. I know that it is special, because I have never had anyone look at me like that. I have never been able offer him the love that should come so easily for me, it is a fault of my heart, not his. Thank you for loving him in the way he has always deserved.

-Sylvia"


	64. Chapter 64

Sherlock watched the water swirl slowly down the drain as he held John tightly in his arms. He felt strangely empty, and couldn't imagine what was going through John's thoughts at the moment. He kissed his damp hair and whispered, "I'm going to get out now and get you a towel, and help you dry off, then we'll go to bed, if that's what you want." He felt John nod against his chest, then watched him sit up and move away a bit. Sherlock wondered, not for the first time how much pain John could tolerate, before he simply shut down completely.

"Just hold on, John." Sherlock uncurled from the tub, and dried off quickly, then knelt next to the tub, and reached in to wrap his arms around John, slowly bringing them up to standing once again. "Step out, there. I'm here, John." He gently rubbed John's hair until dry, keeping his eyes on John's, waiting for him to speak, to give him a hint about what he needed.

"You always, the way you say my name, as though it is something precious."

"It is." Sherlock let the towel fall from his fingers, then held John's face gingerly in both of his hands. "You are; there is nothing, no one, more precious to me, than you." He sighed as he searched John's eyes, seeing a trace of doubt. "John. Oh, my heart. You are, you know, my heart walking around out in the world. You are the very best part of me. I will spend the rest of my life reminding you how treasured and adored you are so you will never question it; you will probably grow tired of hearing me tell you how much I love you, and I won't care."

John snorted, then leaned into Sherlock's arms. "You are ridiculous, and I love you."

Sherlock let his hands drape around the man in front of him. "I love you. I love you. I love you...." He kept saying it until it became a chant, and John started laughing, it began as a quiet chuckle that grew until Sherlock could feel him shake with a full-blown belly laugh.

John pulled back and smiled up at him. "You would say it every moment of my life if I needed you to, wouldn't you?"

Sherlock kissed John's tears away and nodded. "If it was what you required to know what is in my heart, without a hesitation."

John shook his head and met Sherlock's eyes, seeing and knowing, finally completely and forever what had always been there for him. A love so large, so deep, the words seemed redundant. "Just come to bed and show me, love."

 

Hours later, John slept as if he hadn't ever truly slept in his life, nestled against Sherlock's side, his hand resting over Sherlock's heart, while Sherlock tried in vain to shut his thoughts off when he suddenly realized it wasn't his thoughts that were keeping him awake.

 

Everything okay? - L

Sherlock couldn't help but grin and shake his head.

How do you always seem to know? - S

Your thoughts were always loud, my dear, but your feelings have always been deafening to those who know you. - L

He snorted, then grimaced as John shifted a bit.

John's mum wrote him a letter. - S

Ah. - L

Yeah. He hasn't shown it to me, but - S

A confession best left to the priests, I imagine. - L

Funny thing, though, I think he was finally able to forgive himself for leaving and staying away. - S

I think she forgave him somehow, in her way. - S

You need to sleep, he'll need you. - L

Sherlock looked down at John, who was, for once, not fighting with his dreams, and sighed, knowing she was right. She usually was.

Call me later. - L

I will, I love you. - S

Love you, too. - L

 

"Lizzie?" Bits walked into the kitchen, and blinked at the brightness and read her partner's face all too clearly. "A disturbance in the force?"

Liz shook her head, and blew a curl from her face. "Sorry -"

"Come back to bed, love."

 

Sherlock finally fell asleep as John's alarm went off.


	65. Chapter 65

"John?" Sherlock's eyes adjusted to the morning light two hours later and he touched John's face.

"Yeah, I'm going into work. I didn't want you to wake up and find me gone. I know you didn't sleep well, so try to get a nap today?" John kissed Sherlock's forehead, then stood up and waited, as if he knew Sherlock would try to talk him out of going in.

"I'll try, I have that stack of cases to go through, and wedding things - what?"

John had bent down again and was grinning at him. "I do love you."

"Go! The sooner you leave, the sooner you can get back here, lunch at 1?" John nodded then left the room, turning back to watch Sherlock throw off the covers and shimmy into his time-worn robe. 

"Are you sure?"

"John. You need normalcy today, I have things, you know, things-" He had stood up and was moving at top speed, usually a sign of trying to work something out on his own.

"Sherlock." John blocked his way through the door. "Love. Stop."

"I can't, John. I just need time to -"

"Breathe."

"There's just so much, and thinking isn't helping. I need to work on some things, focus on things I can do something about. I - " Sherlock looked into John's eyes, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "It's so hard, not to be able to take your pain away, I was up all night, just trying to find a way through it, and it's not like a case. Too many variables, too many unknowns, and yes, I'd rather you stay in bed with me for the next week so nothing can hurt you, but life isn't like that, and I need you -" Sherlock brushed John's lips with his own, then shook his head. "I need you to do what you need to do that will help you the most today. You know what that is more than I do, so please? I promise, I just need a little time, you know everything I said last night, it's all true."

John nodded and laid his hand against Sherlock's neck, bringing his head down so their foreheads met. "I know, and I thank you, so much, love. If you need me, please?"

Sherlock nodded and kissed John's forehead and walked him to the door. "Lunch. It's a beautiful day. Picnic?"

"I'll be there."

 

Sherlock managed a couple of hours of sleep on the couch, then was awakened by a tentative tap at the door. He shook himself awake and was glad he was wearing a tshirt and pajamas under his robe, though he must look a mess. He shrugged and opened the door to Sylvia.

"Sherlock. I'm sorry that I woke you. I realised as soon as you two left us at the B & B that I had been too honest, or too blunt, perhaps, in what I wrote to John, and it took everything I had not to come over here last night and stop him from reading it. I -"

"No, with John, honesty is infinitely better than trying to bullshit him gently. Did you have tea? I haven't had mine yet, we might even have some milk in the flat still, if you -"

"Sherlock."

He stopped and looked at her, and saw what he loved most about John reflected in her eyes. They both were able to bulldoze through his walls and get him to meet things squarely, not try to avoid whatever was causing him pain. "He, we, need time, Sylvia. Let him talk to you when he's ready. He's at work today, getting on with things the best way he knows how, by doing what he's good at. He's a very good doctor, and an even better person. I think you know that already, you've seen that this weekend. Just give him a bit of space, when he's ready, you will know."

Sylvia nodded, then looked down at her hands. "I actually didn't have my tea this morning, if it's not too much trouble?"

"Please, have a seat." Sherlock went into the kitchen and turned the kettle on. He returned after a moment and cleared his throat."I was wondering if you, I know this may sound odd, but if you had a snap of John when he was a baby - no, never mind. I just -"

Sylvia smiled and opened her purse. "I do, actually, it's my favourite of him. I've carried it around all this time, just because. Hmm. Actually not sure why exactly, perhaps because it was when things were simple, I suppose. It's yours now."

"No. I couldn't." He accepted the fading snapshot, in colour, John was -

"It was his second birthday, we were living on a base then, and there were a few families with small children, so he actually had a party that year. There weren't many of those. Please, keep it. I have others." John was smiling at the person who took the photo, Sherlock could tell his eyes were even darker then, even as the colours were fading, and the light, that had sparkled at him last night was there. 

"Thank you, Sylvia. I -"

The kettle screamed and he got up and switched it off. He walked over to her and took her hands in his and held them gently for a moment. "Thank you for him. I know - no, I didn't read the letter, but I can guess what you wrote to him. You are allowing him to heal, to forgive himself for things that he was not responsible for, but he doesn't see it that way, he carries all this heavy weight around with him, and you are allowing him to put some of it down, finally. Hmm, Tea?"

"Please?"

"I have some biscuits, they are chocolate, I, uhm have a bit of a sweet tooth, if that's alright?"

Sylvia laughed out loud, and Sherlock blinked as he heard John's laughter. "I am rather fond of chocolate biscuits. Thank you."

They sat together in silence as they had their tea and biscuits. Sylvia got up and dusted off her skirt. "We are leaving in an hour, I just wanted you to know -"

Sherlock met her eyes and nodded. "I know. Thank you. It matters to him, to us, it does."

She smiled and touched his cheek, then he opened the door for her and watched her go carefully down the steps, back into the world.


	66. Chapter 66

John was halfway to work when he stopped and almost turned back to go back to the flat. He closed his eyes and remembered Sherlock's words from last night:

"...I will spend the rest of my life reminding you how treasured and adored you are so you will never question it; you will probably grow tired of hearing me tell you how much I love you, and I won't care."

He thought back to how safe Sherlock had made him feel simply by his presence, he wondered if he had ever felt that safe as a child. Perhaps he had, but he couldn't remember a specific moment. He opened his eyes and registered where he was, and instead of returning home, he took a deep breath and walked the last three blocks to work.

"Dr. Watson?" His receptionist looked up and bit her lip.

"Morning, Susan. What is it?"

"That boy? The one who came in with his mum, the eleven year old - they're back, rather, he's back."

"Shit." John mumbled under his breath and headed into his office.

"Joshua?"

"Hey, Dr. Watson. My mum doesn't know I'm here. Neither does he - I need help. We need help. Please?"

John blinked at him for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah. It's kind of complicated, but I can help you. I do know how hard this is for you."

Joshua looked up at him and whispered. "You saw, you were the first to see and try to help. I still have your number, but I - you - you too?"

"Yeah, me, too. Me too. But, this will end for you. Today, if I have anything to say about it. Okay?"

Joshua's eyes fell to his shoes and he mumbled, "Thank you."

"Why don't you crash on the couch? Is your mum at home? Can I call her and have her meet you here?"

Joshua nodded and took off his shoes and fell onto the lumpy couch, and was asleep before John could find the number to call.

"Margery? It's Dr. Watson - I have your son here in my office. Yes, he's fine, he's sleeping on the couch. He's asking for help. I will help him. If you want to get out, I'm offering you help, but he is asking and I will help him. Do you understand?"

 

John arrived at the park a couple of minutes after one. He watched Sherlock pace in front of the bench where they always had lunch on the days he could meet. His curls blew in the slight breeze, he was wrapped up tightly in his coat, even though it was in the 20s, and his hands were shoved into his pockets. Usually not a good sign. He took a breath and began walking towards him, when Sherlock suddenly turned back and spotted him; his face transformed from the worried, strained expression that he wore when he was stuck on something, into a smile that almost made John's knees buckle. His eyes glittered and all of the laugh lines that John loved crinkled at him. John forced his legs to function somehow, and soon he was at Sherlock's side.

"Hey."

Sherlock took him into his arms and settled his chin into John's hair. 

"I missed you," John mumbled into Sherlock's chest, and again, that feeling of safety, of love overwhelmed him. "I love you."

"Hungry?"

"Uhmmhmm."

Sherlock pulled back and ran his eyes over John's face. "Something happened, something -"

"Something good. I think. No, I know it's better than it was."

Sherlock took his hand and led him to the bench; they sat down and Sherlock unpacked the bag. Mrs. Hudson always packed enough for two armies, today was no different. Three sandwiches, crisps, apples, pickles - the extra garlicky dills that Sherlock loved, and John could taste for a couple days after, and of course, a packet of biscuits.

"Tell me." Sherlock unwrapped the first sandwich and gave John half. He took a bite of his, then focused all of his attention on John.

"You know the boy I told you about?"

"The eleven year old?"

"Uhmmhmm."

"Well, he showed up in my office this morning on his own, and asked for my help. He crashed on the couch and I got his mum to come in. She has a sister who can help them, she was just afraid to ask her. I made sure the sister came to get them. It took most of the morning, to get them squared away. Poor Susan, she had to reschedule all the appointments I already on the books, but there was no way -"

Sherlock laid down his sandwich on the waxed paper and pulled John into a kiss, that he could feel in his toes. Their foreheads touched, and John let out a breath. "What was that for?" 

"For being you." Sherlock laid his hand on John's chest. John could feel the warmth of Sherlock's fingers through his shirt and he closed his eyes, taking in Sherlock's scent, the scent that reminded him he was loved. "You have the biggest heart, John Watson."

John shook his head. "No, I -." He opened his eyes to find Sherlock searching his face again. There was something different about him. "What happened this morning?"

Sherlock looked down at the sandwich in his lap and John sighed. "Mum?"

"She came by, wanted to apologise -"

"For her apology?" John smirked and bit into his sandwich.

"She thought it might have come across as -"

"Brutally honest?"

"Hmm, something like that." Sherlock's sandwich seemed unusually interesting suddenly, and they ate in silence for a few minutes.

"I'm not upset." John mumbled after he balled up the waxed paper.

Sherlock looked at him and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, but said nothing. 

"I know - I think you think I need my family. I haven't had it for so long, Sherlock, I don't know - I mean, it seems like it should be simple, she apologises, I forgive her, happy fairy tale ending. People aren't simple. Most people are complicated disasters, all that sentiment, for good or bad. You of all people know that, better than anyone. There is nothing simple about us, and yet, you are my family, my home. You know that, yeah? But - yeah, of course there's a but." He pulled a biscuit from the packet and stuck it into Sherlock's grinning mouth. "I'm willing to give her a chance. You told her to give us some time."

Sherlock nodded as he munched, his eyes never leaving John's.

"I love you. You know what I'm going to do? I'm going to give poor Susan a raise and have her clear my afternoon, and you're going to take me home and -"

Sherlock kissed him again and John tasted the ham salad, and the biscuit, all completely overwhelmed by the scent of garlic. John snorted as he pulled away and murmured, "Yeah, something like that, something just like that, but you need to take me home now, or I might get carried away, and there are way too many people in the park this time of day."


	67. Chapter 67

They walked towards home hand-in-hand, without speaking. John wondered at the peace he felt, Sherlock's fingers twined with his, he didn't need the words, because he could feel how Sherlock felt by how his long, calloused fingers gently fit with his, almost cradling his smaller hand. He closed his eyes and recalled a time, when a different larger hand held his tiny fingers in hers, they were walking somewhere, he remembered feeling loved, and -

"Damn." John stopped and found he couldn't catch his breath.

Sherlock wrapped him in his arms and whispered. "John. It's okay, you are okay. Just breathe for me, John. We're almost home, I have you, you are safe, John. There, look at me?"

John reached up a trembling hand and felt Sherlock's face. He opened his eyes to find Sherlock smiling gently down at him. "There you are." He shook his head, and whispered, "You are okay, John, we will do this together, hmm?" John nodded and rested his head against Sherlock's shoulder before collecting himself enough to take Sherlock's hand again, lean into him and walk the last few meters back to the flat.

Sherlock undressed them both and they gently tumbled into bed. "What was it, John? Can you tell me?" He held John in his arms and was stroking his back gently.

John closed his eyes and spoke slowly, as he replayed the moment in his head. "I was holding her hand, we were going somewhere, I don't know where, but, I felt safe, Sherlock, why would that cause a panic attack? I don't understand."

"Maybe it was after or before a time when you weren't? Or she wasn't? Or maybe it's just a memory you haven't thought of in so long that it surprised you?" Sherlock kissed his hair, his fingers continued to remind John where he was, keeping in him firmly in the present.

"I don't know, I just thought I had buried everything, all the bad memories and the good. Sherlock -"

"John?" Sherlock watched as John sat up suddenly, his face had gone pale.

"What if the other, the bad memories, what if he comes back, Sherlock -"

Sherlock laid his hand on John's cheek and met his eyes. "I will be here, John. You won't be alone -"

"But, what if -"

"John. Look at me. Look. at. me." John blinked at Sherlock and opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again. "I am here, because I love you, because I want to be with you. And I will be here for whatever you need. Right now, though, we are going to be indulgent, and take an afternoon nap, because we can, and because I'm exhausted."

John had to laugh as he laid down again and felt Sherlock curl around him, one long arm cradled his back protectively, while the other was draped across his hip.

"Sleep tight, love." John kissed Sherlock's curls and found himself falling asleep in spite of his fear of what may come to revisit him in his dreams.

 

Been a while, meet up for a pint? - G

Yeah, sounds good. Give me an hour? - J

Sure. Ask your betrothed if, never mind - G

No, he's up for it, if you can believe it. - J

Great! See you guys in an hour. - G

 

"Are you sure you won't come?" Greg asked Mycroft as his husband sighed at his laptop. "Myc? Hello? Your brother is even joining us, come on."

"Really?" Myc pulled off his specs and rubbed his eyes. "How often does he do that?"

"It will be the second time - in uhm, twenty odd years."

"Well, hell, then, why not?"

Greg's jaw dropped, and Mycroft laughed. "Really, Gregory? You know I used to frequent the clubs back in the day."

"This is the local, love, not an open mic night, though that is Friday, you might go and do a reading..."

Mycroft raised an eyebrow and Greg snorted. "I'm kidding, love."

"If you aren't careful, I just might do that -"

"Righhhht - the British Government reciting poetry..."

Mycroft looked at him in the way that sent him back thirty years and he surrendered, "Okay, okay...damn...they're meeting us in an hour."

"A whole hour? Hmmm..."

"Myc. Behave. We have half an hour at the - Myc...you know...damn. I think we're going to be a little late."

"Ummhmmm..."


	68. Chapter 68

As it turned out, Mycroft and Greg made it before John and Sherlock. Greg grabbed their regular booth and Mycroft slid in next to him, wondering how on earth he had ended up there. 

"Because you love me." Greg murmured in his ear, sending tiny vibrations down Mycroft's spine.

"Yes, yes, I - damn." 

"What?" Greg's eyes followed Mycroft's and he let out a low whistle."Shit, they look like they've been through the wars twice."

"Greg, Myc." John followed Sherlock into the booth, and they both let out a breath.

Greg turned around and indicated a round for the table, then looked into John's eyes and raised an eyebrow. "Spill it."

"Family."

"Ah."

Their pints arrived and they all took large gulps.

"Family is, sometimes -"

Sherlock watched as Mycroft struggled to find a word and snorted into his pint. "Difficult? Impossible? At times downright embarrassing?"

"I was going to say 'trying'..." He could see in Sherlock's face the sleepless nights, his attempts to be strong for John while dealing with his own emotions, but what was overwhelming him the most was that he felt unable to help the person who was most important to him.

Sherlock nodded at Mycroft's silent assessment, and was about to respond when Greg got up and stretched.

"We haven't had a good game of darts in donkey's years, come on John, see if you can still beat me."

John winked at him and kissed Sherlock before squeezing his hand and rising from the table. "Back after I clean his clock."

"Arrogant sod." Greg grinned and they headed over to the dart board.

"Subtle as a lorry." Sherlock took another sip of his lager and frowned. "He needed to get out, needed a distraction."

"So did you." Mycroft muttered as he looked into his pint.

"Yeah. How do you - I can't separate myself from John's feelings. I used to be able to, back when -"

Mycroft opened his mouth, but shook his head instead and shrugged, then tried again. "It's part of loving them. Some people can love without investing everything. You aren't built like that. Never have been. He knows how much you love him. Look at him -"

John and Greg were laughing and poking fun at one another as they began a rather rusty game of darts. 

"You give him that, Sherlock, he knows that no matter what, you will be there."

Sherlock looked up at his brother. "You see that? I don't know that he -"

"Look, he just turned around, he's looking for you - there, do you see?" John met Sherlock's questioning gaze with a smile that took Sherlock's breath away.

When he found his voice again, he glanced at his brother's face and nodded. "Things are good."

Mycroft rarely blushed, but Sherlock's surmise was rewarded, as Mycroft bit his lip and a slight flush of pink coloured his normally stoic features.

"Yes. Better than good. And, I think you are part of the reason -"

"Myc -"

"No, Sherlock. The night when you two were over, you helped me understand just how important he was to me. I mean, I had known of course that I loved him, but when you essentially gave me your blessing, when you accepted him as part of what I am, who I am -"

Sherlock tentatively reached out and covered his brother's hand. Mycroft's breath caught for a moment, then he nodded and whispered, "Thank you, brother mine."

"Finally beat him," Greg crowed as he and John rejoined them at the table. 

"You caught me on an off night," John muttered with a grin as slid in next to Sherlock. "Love?"

"Hmm. Yeah?"

"One more round or are you ready to head home?"

Sherlock finished his pint and shrugged, then smirked at his brother, "I'm game if you are."

"Bring it on." 

Greg and John rolled their eyes at each other, but ordered another round.

 

"Really?" John half carried Sherlock up the steps to the flat.

"He dared me," Sherlock groaned as John helped him into the bathroom, sat him on the edge of the tub and unbuttoned his shirt, then disposed of it in the laundry hamper.

"And you couldn't let him win."

Sherlock glared at him. "Let Mycroft win? Do you think he ever let me win - ever?"

John sighed and kissed Sherlock's forehead, before running a flannel under cool water, squeezing it out and gently washing Sherlock's face. "You two are stubborn arses, sometimes."

"Sorry." Sherlock managed a sheepish grin before passing out in John's arms. 

"Myc -" 

"Don't say a word." 

"All I was gonna say is that was a nice thing you did. You both are going to have brilliant hangovers in a few hours, but he needed to let his hair down a bit...though I do have to question your choice of tequila at the end of the night..."

"Don't say that word again." Mycroft growled softly as he stepped into the shower.

"You mean tequila?" Greg mumbled into Mycroft's ear. 

"Arse." 


	69. Chapter 69

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the short chapters...my glasses are broken and my kids are on break til the 24th...eek! Once I can see and have a bit more quietish time, the chapters should be longer...

"You would leave me to suffer alone..." Sherlock whimpered as he squinted against the harsh morning light that John let in when he drew back the curtains.

"Uhmmhmm...some of us have work today, and know when to say when." John smirked at Sherlock as he bent down to kiss his forehead.

"Yeah, but I did beat him." Sherlock murmured from under the covers.

"Yes, love, you most certainly did," John grinned as he closed the door behind him. He snickered to himself as he pulled out his mobile.

You'll never guess what your two idiot nephews did last night. - J

 

"I would stay and listen to you moan and groan, and make you eat some break -"

"Don't."

"But I do have meetings and cases that need solving, especially with your brother out of commission this morning -"

"DO NOT mention his name to me."

"He beat you square and fair."

"Hummph. Sez you."

"I love you, my poetry spouting madman." Greg kissed Mycroft's cheek before Greg's words made it through the fog.

"I didn't," Mycroft groaned as his fell back against his pillow.

"Oh, you most certainly did, I even managed to film you on my mobile, and you have been formally invited to their monthly Poetry Slam in a couple weeks. I gratefully accepted on your behalf."

"You didn't."

"I did, and I do believe Lizzie and Bits will be in town that evening, that's the week of their final fitting for their wedding outfits...hmmm..."

"OUT!!!" Greg blew him a kiss as he ducked the flying pillows on his way out the door.

 

Mycroft Holmes. - L

I'm gonna kill him. - M

It wasn't Gregory, dear, though he did invite us to a poetry slam when we are next in town. No, it was John. He told me I'd be proud at how well the Holmes Boys hold their tequila. - L

Is that all he said? - M

Oh no, dear, he just happened to mention that Gregory had a lovely clip of you reciting some Cummings? - L

Definitely gonna kill both of them. - M

Love you, dear. - L

Love you, Lizzie. - M

 

Mycroft texted Anthea to let her know to cancel his afternoon appointments, then he turned off his mobile and buried himself back under the covers.


	70. Chapter 70

Lunch? - S

Come on. - S

Myc, you can't still be sore at me. - S

I'll even spring for that ridiculously posh place you like. - S

Give me an hour. - M

 

Sherlock lifted his dark glasses as Mycroft entered the room. He nodded at him and Mycroft slowly made his way over, obviously still hurting from the previous evening's festivities, but no one else who thought they knew him would have sensed a difference in him.

"I already ordered, you always order the same thing, and they take forever here."

Mycroft placed his napkin in his lap and waited.

Sherlock took off his glasses and laid them on the table, then cleared his throat. "I know you could've come to Sussex when we were there, I know you thought it a bad idea for us to hold the wedding there, and I know you thought, it would be a mistake for me to go back. But, I was ready, finally. I should've gone back long ago, for Lizzie. I was only able to do it because John was there, and because you let me do it the way I needed to, on my own terms. So, uhm, thank you."

"You're an adult, you have to make your own decisions; I can't make them for you."

Sherlock nearly spit his water into Mycroft's face, then slowly put his glass back on the linen covered table. "Since when?" He whispered, genuinely astonished.

"I've seen how different you have become since, well, since you returned, and even before then, you were already changing, or growing, I'm not quite sure what to call it, evolving? I had believed that your relationship with Dr. Watson, with John, would not be beneficial, would end up damaging you. I am glad to be wrong for once. It doesn't happen very often." Sherlock rolled his eyes, but said nothing. "And, I think indirectly, your obvious feelings for John allowed me to - helped me to realize how important Gregory was to me -" his words faded as he looked into his glass.

"I'm sure you would've figured that out for yourself." Sherlock murmured as their lunch arrived.

The waiter bowed and left them, before Mycroft responded. "No. When I truly understood the sacrifice you were making to keep John and Gregory and Mrs. Hudson safe, I saw how much time I had wasted being afraid of letting myself feel, it had hurt so much when he left that I had shut down everything that allowed me to feel anything close to an emotion. That night -"

Sherlock shook his head. "Please. Don't."

Mycroft raised his eyes to meet Sherlock's when he heard the brokenness in his brother's voice, and saw that his brother knew all too well, that night had changed both of them in ways they were still discovering. 

"We've never really talked about -"

"Not here, not now, Myc, please? I've made peace with that part of my life, we've dealt with it, it's part of our past." He played with the pile of potatoes on his plate and shrugged. "It comes back at times, but we deal with it and just go on. Just let it go, Myc. Please?"

Mycroft nodded, and they spent the rest of their main course in silence. "Dessert?" Sherlock pointed at the menu, "They have that pudding you like, that insanely chocolate thing -"

"Since you're footing the bill." Mycroft grinned at him, and was relieved to find Sherlock smile back. Mycroft realized then that the things he thought he needed to tell his brother were already known, had been known for a long time. "Thank you, brother, mine."

Sherlock nodded and raised a slightly trembling finger to attract the waiter's attention; that was the only sign that told Mycroft how much those few words meant to his brother.

 

Later that night, Sherlock was oddly quiet: John usually knew his silences, but this one was different. "Love?" John knelt in front of Sherlock and waited. Sherlock opened his eyes and looked down into John's, searching again for any signs of doubt, and saw none. He shook his head and smiled gently. "I just - you - mmm -"

John nodded and laid a finger on Sherlock's lips. "I know, love. I do, truly."


	71. Chapter 71

Greg walked into the house and closed the door quietly, unsure of what he would find. He had received no texts or phone calls during the day and wasn't sure if that was a bad sign or - the music coming from the kitchen was much like what they danced to back before - he took a deep breath in and, it was Thai like that hole-in-the wall place they had found one night, but surely - he followed his nose and wrapped himself around Mycroft who was staring into the curry as it bubbled in the wok. The jasmine rice was already in bowls, and a good, no, better than good wine was already waiting on the table.

"I learned how to make it from them, they had said, 'just in case that lovely young man of yours comes back.' I had forgotten I knew how until this afternoon."

"Smells exactly the same," Greg murmured into Mycroft's neck, as he untied his husband's apron. Mycroft sighed and shut off the curry before turning around and pulling Greg into a deep, not so gently passionate kiss.

Greg pulled back and grinned at him. "Tastes the same, too. I just realized how hungry I am."

"Sit, and pour us some wine, and I'll get you a bowl."

"So, tell me, what did you do with your day off?"

 

"You took Mycroft to lunch?" John almost dropped his fork, and he looked across the table at Sherlock, who was picking at his dinner as usual.

"He needed to be let off the hook, I needed to let him off the hook."

"For?":

"My time away, and all the times before when he thought he had failed me."

 

"Just like that?"

"Yes, just like that, I think he took me to lunch because he knew I wouldn't make a scene in public especially at the place he chose. He wanted it to be done as quickly and as painlessly as possible for both of us. But, he forgave me, Gregory, and I finally got to thank him. For saving you."

 

John leaned across the table and kissed Sherlock's forehead. "Did you let yourself off the hook, too, love?"

Sherlock blinked then raised an eyebrow at him, and let his fork clatter to his plate.

"You've paid long enough, it's time. It's long past time. Let it go, love, please?"

:"John?"

"Let it go, Sherlock."

Sherlock buried his face into his hands; John pushed away from the table, then got up and moved to stand behind Sherlock. He carefully draped his arms around his friend and lover, and whispered, "Let it all go, love, please." He held Sherlock through the silent sobs, then waited for him to turn around. Once again, Sherlock lifted his eyes to meet John's and found only love there. "Time for bed, yeah?"

Sherlock nodded and took John's hand, following his lead as always.


	72. Chapter 72

Dear Mum -

I have a bit of time this morning to write to you before I go off to the clinic. I find it hard to respond directly to your letter of -. I understand your desire to be known, and I want you to write to me as you need to. I am trying to piece together the memories I have of you, and as you can imagine, I am not quite sure how much I want to remember. I had a memory of you holding my hand and walking with me recently while walking with Sherlock, and I felt safe and loved by the person with whom I was walking. I assume it was you, but I can't place when and where it was, it was just a moment, but the moment, to be honest, threw me into a panic attack. I am still trying to understand that. Luckily Sherlock was there, otherwise I might still be standing there a few meters from our door. 

It is difficult to know what it is you want from me. I am not used to having family. No. I am used to having one person stand as my family, though we are not officially legally binding as yet. Sherlock is my family. I think you know that, I think you saw that when you saw us together. I do thank you for your acceptance of him, and of us. I truly did not understand how much your blessing means to me, to him, to us. 

Please do write, I will answer as I can.

Kindest regards, and love,  
John

 

John folded the paper and placed it into an envelope he had managed to find in the piles of odds and ends on the desk, and swore to himself he would spend some time to organize it later, except he wasn't sure of Sherlock's system of wedding planning, so he shrugged and bent down to pick up a snap which had fluttered to the floor. He sat down when he saw who it was, himself, at two years old. It was his birthday party, he knew from, how did he know, it was just a feeling, or the shirt he was wearing, or the faded background of the children he had never really known, but shared his birthday with.

He turned sharply as he felt Sherlock's arm around him. "I asked if she had a snap of you as a baby, and she gave this to me. She said it was just something she had always kept with her. I wanted it because, I wanted to know how you've changed. I think. Not sure, exactly. But I keep it there on the desk, so I can see the light in your eyes, when you aren't with me. That very light you grace me with every day. You see, it's there." Sherlock pointed to John's eyes in the snap, then kissed John's cheek and stood up. "There are stamps, uhm, ah, here, I'll just leave it here on the desk. I've been called in to look at a couple of cases, I could walk you to work if you like?"

John looked up at him and nodded.

"I'm going to grab a shower, if you want to join me?"

John nodded again and Sherlock offered him a hand.

John murmured, "I find I am still surprised by you. How Is that possible, that I don't know everything about you yet?"

Sherlock pulled him into his chest and mumbled, "Don't want you getting bored of me."

"Never." John forced Sherlock to look him in the eye. "You will never bore me, Sherlock, not ever."

"Good." Sherlock winked at him, and turned toward the bathroom, his hand still tightly holding onto John's.


	73. Chapter 73

"I mailed out the London invitations yesterday, just need to know -"

John's hand tightened around Sherlock's and he took a deep breath. "Yes."

"Yes." Sherlock stopped and turned to face John, it didn't matter in the least to him that it was midmorning, in the middle of London, he wrapped his fingers in John's silver hair and kissed him for so long that when Sherlock stopped and stood back, grinning at him in that way he had when John had done something that pleasantly surprised him, John had to be reminded who he was and where he was going.

"You," Sherlock said after a quick kiss on John's forehead, "are John Hamish Watson, the love of my life, and you are going to work, right there, in your clinic. Afterwards, I am going to take you to dinner, and spoil you rotten after you see to all of London's sniffles and ankle sprains." He opened the door to the clinic and nodded a good morning to Susan who wriggled her fingers at him as he closed the door.

John blushed a bit, then somehow recovered, with a grin. "It's a month from the wedding, he's a bit excited."

Susan shrugged then flashed a smile at him. "You're a lucky guy, Dr. Watson."

John nodded at her and mumbled to himself. "Yeah, I am a right lucky sod."

 

"So, what's got you in such a good mood, Sunshine?" Lestrade looked up to see Sherlock leaning against his doorway, actually whistling.

"What, I can't be in good mood?" Sherlock snarked lightly.

"Something happened, then."

"Excellent deduction, Inspector." Sherlock walked into Lestrade's office and dropped into the creaky chair he had always complained about on each visit.

Greg looked at Sherlock's face, still signs of sleepless nights in the dark circles under his eyes, but his slight smile lit up those same eyes in the same way Lestrade remembered from the night at the local before Sherlock proposed, but more certain, no telltale sign of nerves, his hands rested quietly in his lap, feet planted firmly on the floor.

"A month away..."

"Yep."

"And John is inviting his family." Sherlock nodded.

"And you think it's a good thing."

"I think so, I hope so, they've been writing each other, and they talk once a week, sometimes we have bad nights, but I think he knows he would regret not having his own cheering section so to speak..."

"And?"

Sherlock looked away, a bit shyly. "I really like them. A lot. I can see where John came from, they know his stories, it's like when Lizzie showed John all of the photo albums in Sussex, I get to know him better. I know she's not my mum, not anything like her, but she - she -" He looked up from under his eyelashes and caught Lestrade grinning at him. He cleared his throat, rolled his eyes, but finished his thought. "She's kind to me, just because I love John. I don't have to be someone I'm not, and that's kind of interesting. I'm not used to that. Now. You said you had some cases for me to look over?"


	74. Chapter 74

Sherlock led John on a merry journey through London, "eyes closed, no peeking," in one of Mycroft's sedans with darkly tinted windows. John knew he had gone in circles a few times, thought he knew where they were a few times, but then gave up and leaned into Sherlock's shoulder, simply enjoying being near him, after a tedious day in the clinic. Somehow, Sherlock knew as he always did, and wrapped his arm around him and sat quietly, though John could feel him vibrating, as he did when he was nervous about a gift.

"Where are we going?" John finally murmured as Sherlock helped him out of the car and shut the door, then wrapped a blindfold over John's eyes.

"Shh ... almost there ..." Sherlock opened a door quietly, they walked a few more steps, then stopped.

"We're..." John took a deep breath in. He would have rolled his eyes, but with the blindfold still loosely wrapped over them, the effort would have been for naught.

"Where we met."

Sherlock removed the blindfold and John blinked for a moment, stunned by the transformation of the lab space. The stark white and metal greys had been carefully draped with brightly chaotic curtains, Molly's, of course, then lit with tiny white fairy lights. They had found a table from somewhere and added two metal folding chairs, and a couple of candles to light their picnic dinner, but to John, it was better than any four star restaurant. He was silent for too long, because suddenly Sherlock slumped into one of the chairs and looked down at his hands.

"You thought it was going to be somewhere special..."

"No. NO. Sherlock. God, this is -" John knelt next to him and closed his eyes. He knew he needed his next few words to be perfect, "Sherlock, love. You know how much I hate stuffy, posh places where there are too many forks. You loathe those places. That isn't us, never has been. You must know I don't even need the wedding to know that we are already married in the ways that matter most."

Sherlock's head snapped up at that, and he looked down at John. "And yet, I want it. For you. I want you to have your day, the day you have dreamed of for so long. I want it for you, for us. For our families, for both of our families. But mostly because I want to show off my amazing, gorgeous and absolutely brilliant man, in that ridiculously posh, bespoken suit you have worried over for the last few months. You will probably swelter in it, but you won't care. You will glow, you will sparkle, and on that day, you will be mine. Forever."

Sherlock kept his eyes locked onto John's for a long moment before he spoke in a whisper. "Ever since that first moment, John, in this cold, antiseptic room, all those years ago, you, simply your presence changed me. You made me want to be better, smarter, stronger. I wanted to be enough. Enough for you."

John laid his hands carefully on Sherlock's face and leaned into a gentle whisper of a kiss, then sat back. "Love, you have always been enough, and these last few weeks, you have been my rock, my safe place when I just want to hide away. You are my light, my heart, my everything. I never thought I could ever say those words to anyone. But, you, love, are -"

Sherlock's eyes glistened and he bit his lip, but still a single tear fell. John kissed it away, then wrapped his fingers in the dark, softly scented curls, and kissed his forehead. He heard Sherlock sniffle, then felt strong, lean arms and long fingers hold onto him tightly. 

"Everything, Sherlock. Never doubt that, love." He waited for Sherlock's breathing to calm and he whispered,"Now. What's for dinner? I'm starving."


	75. Chapter 75

How did it go? - L

You were right, he loved it. It was ridiculous to worry. - S

You worry because you want him to understand, and you still aren't sure that he does. - L

No. I know, now. - S

Not the whys, but I know he sees it and knows how much he means to me. I kind of feel like I walk around completely naked around him, even when I'm fully dressed. Do you know what I mean? - S

Lizzie looked over at Bits who was curled up next to her sound asleep and smiled.

Yes. I know exactly what you mean. - L

Night, Lizzie, thank you. I love you. - S

Love you too, sweetie. - L

Lizzie turned off her phone and snuggled down under the covers. She was still getting used to having Bits with her, after missing her for so long, she was still afraid to sleep for fear that if she did, Bits would be gone when she opened her eyes. She had tried to hide it, but she knew Bits knew.

"Love?"

"Uhmhmm."

"How was the big date?"

"Sounds like it was perfect."

"Come here."

"What?"

"Lizzie." Bits wrapped her arms around her and Lizzie buried her face in Bits' shoulder, taking in the scent she was afraid of losing again. "You are not going to lose me. I am here, love. I want you to sleep, for me? What good are you going to be to the boys if you fall asleep during the ceremony. It's a month away, love. You are a Holmes, yes, but even Holmes folks have to sleep once in a while."

Lizzie laughed and relaxed in Bits' strong arms, knowing she could finally sleep.

 

John took Sherlock's phone out of the detective's hand and switched it off, then laid it on the table. "Look at me, love."

"Hmm?" Sherlock looked at John's face and shook his head. "John?"

"Do you know, truly?"

Sherlock nodded slowly and tried to turn away.

"No. Please?" John touched his face gently and Sherlock took a breath as their eyes met. "Do you know?"

"Yes. Yes, John. I do. I swear, I do."

"Come here, love." John opened his arms and Sherlock fell into them, snuggling closely. He always wondered how it was they managed to fit together so perfectly. Somehow they just did. "Close your eyes." Sherlock closed his eyes and was lost as he felt John's fingers in his curls, stilling the last bits of the thoughts that seemed to run nonstop through his head. John was the only known force that could bring them to a standstill. "Sleep, my love, just sleep."


	76. Chapter 76

Mycroft dropped his umbrella in the stand and turned to hang up his coat when he heard a screech of a frustrated musician.

"Blast!" A crumple of paper followed, a pause, then a slam of a door and stomping of annoyed slippered feet, that came to a sudden halt as Greg entered the room, and saw Mycroft standing there. 

"Oh. Damn. Sorry." Greg looked at Mycroft's face and saw the long week in his face, the greyness and darkness under his eyes.

"You're making it more complicated than it is."

"What?" Greg narrowed his eyes at Mycroft and waited before speaking again.

Mycroft turned and hung up his coat, then walked over to a chair, sat down heavily, and began removing his shoes carefully, as he always did. He put on his slippers, then removed his suit jacket, and began loosening his tie.

"The piece for Sherlock and John. It is what took Sherlock so long, to see it. It was too simple. He thought it would be complicated. Love itself is quite simple. It may make the decisions we make more difficult, but love itself? Simple."

Greg moved to stand in front of Mycroft, knowing he wasn't finished yet. He knelt down and reached up to remove Mycroft's tie, then began to unbutton the cuffs on his shirt.

"You are why he is here." Greg's fingers froze and he closed his eyes, then he took a breath and resumed without a word. "Of course I knew. I saw the police report, I knew what you did for him. For me. A simple matter of being there in time, and yet, it became an act of mercy, Gregory, you knew what it would have done to me had he died, no matter the circumstances, but -" Greg unbuttoned Mycroft's shirt and helped him take it off, laying it carefully on the arm of the chair.

"It was also an act of love. Yes. It was that. I saw that little boy that you carried with you, still carry with you in your wallet. You never spoke of him, but I knew, even though I never had a brother. He became my brother that night, Myc. The night I left him at the A & E, I was afraid I'd bump into you, but I waited until I knew he'd make it. I needed to know he would be okay. Because he was part of you. Thank you, love." Greg kissed Mycroft's forehead, then shook his head as he watched him fall asleep, his chin falling gently into his chest. "Just need to fix something."

An hour later, Mycroft startled awake, a drink on the table next to him, the sounds of a London evening in spring coming from beyond the kitchen door, the scent of the grill going and he tried to recall what he had said before he had fallen asleep, and then he bolted upright in the chair when he remembered. "Damn." He stood up, grabbed his drink, then slowly made his way into the backyard.

"Hey, sleepyhead." Greg turned and smiled at him.

"Gregory -" Mycroft stopped, confused by the gentle expression in Greg's eyes.

"I worked it out. You were right, I was trying too hard, needs to be a simple piece. He will hear it, they will know it for what it is. Sometimes the truest things in our lives are the bits that come easily, and we tend not to believe in the truth of it, because something that changes us so completely surely shouldn't be that simple. We were, we are simple, Mycroft. I don't know why. I just know I am exactly where I need to be. Here with you. It's that simple."

Mycroft watched him as he turned his focus to the grill once again, and for a moment they stood in silence.

"Thank you." Mycroft mumbled to the growing darkness. 

Greg nodded, then whispered into the smoke. "You're welcome, love."


	77. Chapter 77

Harry knocked on the cottage door with the post in her hand. "Mum? Post is here."

Sylvia looked up from her tea and nodded. She placed the latest brief note from John in her book to hold her place and held her hand out. Harry tried to stifle a grin and her mother looked up at her with a raised eyebrow. "Harry?"

Harry laid the heavy, cream coloured envelope in front of Sylvia, the handwriting was not John's left handed barely decipherable scrawl, but a beautiful script, carefully done. She sat and stared at a for a moment, afraid to touch it. "Mum - it won't bite you, just open it, please?"

Sylvia picked it up and held it both hands, then out it down again. "I'm not sure. Honestly, Harry, do I deserve to - it's their day, am I going to ruin it for him, for them?"

"Mum. Look at me. MUM."

Sylvia looked up at her daughter, and saw the fierce love in her face. Harry wasn't soft, her edges were hard, always had been. Clara had somehow cracked the walls a bit, and was allowed in, but Harry was still a mystery to her.

"It's less than a month away, the envelope is handwritten, Sherlock waited for John to decide. Just open it."

Sylvia nodded and used her letter opener to slit open the top. She took a breath before taking out the cream invitation, edged in a midnight blue, but somehow it glittered. John's eyes, he managed to find the colour of John's eyes. Her eyes blurred as she tried to read the words, so she handed it to Harry to read to her.

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes and John Hamish Watson -"

"He let him use his middle name?"

"Tradition, I suppose, looks like Sherlock may be unconventional in some ways, but not when it comes to this wedding." Harry grinned and went on: "request your presence at their celebration of love on June 14, 2017 at 2pm...oh, Mum." Harry slid out the response card and a folded sheet of paper fell out.

"Sylvia - This was John's decision, but, I want you to know how very pleased I would be to have you join us. I know we have not known each other for very long, but I appreciate your acceptance of me, of us, in ways you will never know. It will mean so much to both of us if you attend the festivities. John thinks I've lost my mind, and perhaps I have, but I want everyone that matters to know how much I love and cherish him, and this is my way of doing it. There is plenty of room at the manor for all three of you, and I know Lizzie, Bits and Ollie would love to spend time getting to know you. We will be going down a week before to begin the work, we can send a car for you if you'd like to join us. All of our love, Sherlock."

Even Harry was speechless for a moment. Then she cleared her throat and whispered, "Mum?"

Sylvia's eyes were surprisingly clear when she looked up. "Hmmm?"

"I think you've been forgiven, a bit."

Sylvia shook her head. "Harry, he is giving me a chance, a chance to be there for him in a way I didn't know how to before. Forgiveness is not easily given or accepted, Harry. I think you know that, my dear. We're still working on it, aren't we?" She touched Harry's face and saw the beginnings of tears in her daughter's eyes. "Harry?"

"Oh, Mum. I've just been so angry for so long. At everyone, everything, my father, you, John. He got to leave, to escape and he left me. He left me behind. I know now that he had no choice, he couldn't take me with him. I know that he needed to get out. But, honestly, I'm afraid to not be angry. I don't know what I have left if I let go of it all."

Sylvia said nothing, just stood up and took Harry into her arms and held her as she wept on her shoulder, then spoke quietly. "Love, Harry. There is love. I'm learning that, I wasn't sure there would be any left for me after all this time. There is, somehow, Harry. But it takes faith, it takes trust, and it takes time. Give yourself time, Harry. You and Clara have been so generous to me letting me be here, with you, in this space, my own space for the first time. You have given me such a gift." She pulled back and kissed Harry's forehead. "You are a gift, Harry."

"Damn." Harry shook her head and tried to find a sarcastic rebuttal, her stock in trade when attempting to shield herself, but instead, whispered, "Can I make us some more tea, Mum?"

"That would be lovely, dear."


	78. Chapter 78

"Yes?"

"Sherlock?"

"Sylvia. Did you get the invitation? Did Harry and Clara get theirs?"

"Yes, yes, we did...are you sure?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and handed his mobile to John.

"Mum?"

"John, I -"

"Mum, please come stay for the week with us, you and Harry and Clara, I know Lizzie wants to meet you. All of you. Say yes, Mum."

Sylvia laughed and Sherlock could hear where John's laugh had come from.

Sherlock took the mobile back and waited until she was done laughing. "Please, there is so much space, and it's so lovely and -"

"Yes, we will come, we will be there, tell him, Sherlock, please? Thank you, I think you know how much it means, I don't need to tell you, but - thank you, so much for -"

Sherlock watched John's face as he spoke, "it was John, Sylvia. It was time, time to start again, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is, Sherlock. I'll never know how you got him to let you use his middle name -"

"He hates it, I know, but it is -"

"It's funny, I know." Sherlock could hear the smile in her voice.

"Tradition!"

"Right. Love you both."

"Sylvia." Sherlock ended the call and turned it off. "That was a lovely thing you did, John Hamish Watson."

"What?" John looked up from his book and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Inviting them."

"I knew it would make you happy to have them there - and, yes, I want them to be there with me, with us, on that day." He closed his book and stretched his legs out so his feet fit between Sherlock's knees. "So...Saturday afternoon...nothing to do...lovely day outside..." Sherlock sighed and put his fingers together as if in deep thought. John threw the Union Jack pillow at his head. 

"I have a case or two...menus...we have a fitting...music..." He ticked each one off on his long fingers while carefully avoiding looking at John.

"If you say swans -"

Sherlock winked at him and gently moved John's feet from his chair, then gracefully knelt in front of him. "Come to bed and make love to me."

John threw the book in the air, stood up and pulled Sherlock to his feet. "That, love, sounds like a plan."

 

They will be there. - S

Really? For the whole week? - L

Yes. - S

Oh, Sherlock, that's lovely, we can get out the books again - L

Liz. - S

Come on, just one or two? - L

Maybe one. - S

I'll make that trifle - L

Not the - S

Uhmmmhmmm. - L

You wouldn't lie to me - S

Not about trifle, love, never about trifle. - L

Okay. Fine. - S

You are a dear. - L

You too. - S

 

Sherlock turned off his phone and turned to see John watching him. 

"What?"

"I'm not sure I'll ever get used to waking up to find you by my side. It's not something I take for granted, you know that?"

"I know, John. I do know that. Believe me, I know."

"I love you."

Sherlock nodded. "We need to invent other words for this - whatever it is that we have, something bigger, brighter, 'love' just doesn't seem enough."

"It'll do me." John whispered as he pulled Sherlock into another kiss, reminding them both of how they had spent the last few hours.

"I love you, too." Sherlock mumbled after he could catch his breath again. "I love you, John Watson."


	79. Chapter 79

"Write to him."

Harry snorted and kept painting for a few minutes before she sensed Clara wasn't going to leave her studio without a fight or at least a conversation. She finally got to a stopping point and threw her brushes in the water. She leaned back, pushed her specs into her hair and tried not to glare at her wife. "And what exactly should I write to him? I'm not a writer, Clara. He doesn't know the first thing about me. Yes, I know that it's not his fault. It's just, I don't want to be in the way, add more drama or whatever. I just figure, maybe we will have time the week before the wedding to talk, I'm not good with words, not on paper, not like he is." She stopped and sighed. "You are just going to let me keep talking until I talk myself into it. Look, it's almost seven, I've been working most of the day, let's check on Mum, then run out for a bite and you can try to talk me into it."

 

"Have you talked to Harry?"

"Hmm?"

Sherlock waved his hand in front of John's face, who was zoning out on a spot on the wall; the latest case, which Sherlock had solved before he threw on his coat was giving him fits. "Your sister. Harry?"

"Right. Yeah. Harry. We haven't really talked at all much since I left home. We were close before I left, just because we had no one else really, but then I went away to Uni, ran away, she would call it, if you asked her, and she would be right. I could have stayed closer to home, been there for her, but honestly, I worked my arse off to get as far away as I could -"

 

"He left, and never really looked back; he said he wouldn't come back and he didn't. He wrote me a couple of times, but I never opened the letters, never gave him a chance really, and then he stopped bothering at all, I think he just got on with his life as best he could. I don't know what I expected him to do honestly, and in his place, I'd probably would have done the same." Harry put down her fork and shrugged. 

"Do you want a relationship with him?"

Harry looked into Clara's eyes and looked down at her half-eaten dinner. "Not sure. I think I'd like to be his friend, more than anything, but I'm not sure how, I don't have much to offer him -"

Clara shook her head and sighed. "Harry -"

"It's true, I'm just a living, breathing reminder of what he survived."

 

"I don't even know what she does."

"She's an artist."

"Really?"

Sherlock opened a new tab on John's laptop, and did a search for Harry Watson. 

"Damn....I had no idea. She's brilliant!"

"What if I asked her to do a portrait of you, as your wedding present to me?"

"How do you know I don't already have a present for you already?" John smirked up at him.

"Will you do it if I ask her? Please?"

John studied Sherlock's face for a long moment, then nodded, and whispered, "Yes, love, if it's that important to you, yes. Better ask her soon, though, before I get any grayer."

"Silver, John, I like to think of it as silver."

"Whatever, it's just another sign I'm getting old."

"Enough of that - I'm going to text her right now."

"You too -"

"Me too, what?"

"I want her to paint you too, both of us, together or separately, doesn't matter -"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but nodded as he pulled out his mobile.

 

Busy in the next few weeks? - S

Hey Sherlock, just the wedding, far as I know, just finished up a piece tonight, why? - H

How would you feel about doing our portraits, kind of a wedding present to ourselves? - S

Let me think about it for a bit, I'll get back to you, yeah? - H

Of course, take your time. - S

 

"What was that?" Clara asked, seeing Harry's face flush suddenly.

"Sherlock asked me to do their portraits."

"Harry, that's perfect!"

"I dunno, I didn't even know they knew what I did."

"Hon, Sherlock probably did a search and found all of your work, kind of hard to miss."

"I know, but, - yeah, you're right, it is kind of perfect, isn't it?"

Clara grinned at her as Harry pulled out her mobile again.

 

When do want to start? I'm assuming you want to have it done at Baker Street? - H

Yes, that would be perfect. Next week? Wednesday? - S

Works for me, be there bright and early. - H

Thank you, Sherlock. - H

No, thank you, Harry. - S


	80. Chapter 80

"Do you want me to come with you?" Clara asked as she watched Harry pack up her box and the canvases she had stretched in preparation for the portraits.

Harry paused for a moment, then nodded. "Please?"

Clara smiled, knowing how hard it was for Harry to ask for help today, she had been quiet the last few days, working out ideas in her head, making sketches, locking herself away for hours at a time as she did before the beginning of a new project, but she knew this one was different from any other work Harry had ever done.

Harry rolled her eyes and picked up the box as Clara opened the door for her.

 

"The jumper."

"The jumper?"

John had been trying on different outfits, and changed his hairstyle over the last five days so often, that Sherlock jokingly threatened to shave it off for him.

John glared at him for a moment, then collapsed into his chair with a snort.

"I know you are nervous, just try to -"

"Relax?"

"You won't even have to talk to her, she won't want you to move a muscle, right? When she and Clara get here, we will stay until you are both settled and -"

"How do you know Clara will be coming with her?"

Sherlock knelt down next to John's chair and sighed. "If you're nervous, think about what Harry is feeling right now -"

 

"Breathe."

"I am breathing."

"You can do this."

"I know I can," Harry huffed impatiently as she waited for Clara to park the car.

Clara turned off the car and pulled the key out of the ignition and waited. "You know him. You do, you just have to remember him and learn the new bits, who he was, the brother you knew and loved is there, he's just gotten a bit older and been through the wringer a few times, not unlike -"

Harry nodded, then leaned over and kissed her gently. "Thank you, for being here." She squeezed Clara's hand and blew out a breath. "Let's do this, yeah?"

 

"Clara, so good to see you again. Harry, thank you so much for doing this, it means a lot to both of us." Sherlock kissed them both on the cheek, then shrugged into his coat. "Clara, I think we have just enough time if we are going to make that appointment?"

"Right. I'm ready when you are." Clara gave Harry a kiss and offered Sherlock her arm, and they vanished down the steps.

"Set up." John pinched his nose.

"By the best." Harry grinned as she shook her head. "So, did you have an idea, about how you want to do this?"

"My favourite place is that chair, I know it's a but ratty but -"

"No, it's perfect, you're used to it, and it seems to suit you, I think." 

"Brat."

Harry smiled and John grinned back at her. "Would you like some tea?"

"Please?"

 

"Was that too awful of us?" Clara asked once they made it out the street door.

"No, they'll be fine. Did you eat before you left, we can get some breakfast, and there is an exhibit we can go see in a bit -"

"You want to pick my brain."

Sherlock looked at the tall, red haired woman next to him and could see what the last years with Harry had given her, yes, there were battle scars, but there was also strength and kindness that had survived through their time together.

"Yes. No. I just want to get to know you better, I want to get to know both of you better, and I want John to truly have his family back."

"Is that what he wants?" Clara asked quietly as they began walking towards a tea shop.

"Yes."

"I hope so, because it's going to take some work on both sides I think."

Sherlock nodded. "It will be worth it."

Clara leaned into his shoulder and sighed. "I hope you are right, Sherlock, I really do."

 

"First. I'm going to do some sketches, and figure out how I'm going to -"

"I'm sorry, Harry." 

"Huh?"

"I should have tried harder."

"Wh- John."

"I should have called to see how you were. I knew you were angry and you had every right, and if there had been a way-"

"Don't. Please?" Harry tried to get up from the stool but found she couldn't move.

"Harry. I was selfish, I had to save myself -"

"John, you were eighteen, you had been abused for so long in so many ways. If I had been in your place, I would have done the same thing. Exactly the same thing."

"That doesn't excuse -"

Harry placed a shaky hand on her brother's face and shook her head. "John. You are not to blame for my choices. I should have found you when you came home. I saw the letter they sent to Mum, I knew you were in bad shape, and I should have tried to help you, but I wasn't in good shape then, Clara almost left me, Mum was still with Father - so I thought it was just better to leave you be. I still -"

John nodded and covered her hand with his. "It's okay, Harry. We survived somehow, yeah? Let's just -"

"Baby steps?"

"Yeah, baby steps. So, chair?"

"Chair. You have a long arse book to read? May take me a bit to figure it out, you'll get bored."

"Books I have, time to read them, not so much."

Harry laughed, "I bet, between work and chasing after Sherlock - sorry, that sounded, uhm -"

"No, that's true enough, though we've slowed down a bit since -"

"Since?"

"Ever since he's been back, he doesn't do much of the chasing any longer."

"Is that -" Harry set up her easel and her drawing paper and stared at him. "because you asked him -"

"No. I would never ask him to stop doing what makes him happy. I just don't think it makes him that happy anymore."

"Ah." She grabbed a piece of charcoal and made a few rough slashes on her paper. 

"Ah?"

"He's settled down, then."

 

"Any interesting cases lately?" Clara asked as their tea and scones arrived.

Sherlock shrugged and shook his head. "Not really. A few odd things now and then, I mostly work on the cold files."

"Is that because -" Clara stopped and took a sip of tea. "Sorry, not my business."

"No, go ahead." 

"Is it because John has asked you to stop?"

Sherlock finished his tea and placed his cup carefully back into the dish. "No, he's never once asked me to. I, hmm, I don't want to - damnit. I can't risk him getting hurt or put him in danger again, and I can't put him through seeing me get hurt, or -"

Clara nodded. "Have you talked to him about it?"

"No."

"Is this what you want?"

"What?"

"You have been planning the wedding for months, what are you going to do after it's done?"

"I - "

"Sherlock."

"I don't know, Clara. I honestly haven't the faintest idea."

 

"You think he's settled?" John asked quietly after a moment.

"Nope, not what I said. I said 'settled down'. In a good way, I would think? Yeah?" She made a few more dashes and flipped the page over, then looked at John's face. "Damn. What did I say?"

"It's nothing."

"John?"

"I just, I wonder, if it's because of me -"

Harry stopped and laid her charcoal down, and moved to stand in front of him. "John. Since he's been back, has he once acted like he's not doing what he wants to do?"

"No, but -"

"Has he once told you he's unhappy with things as they are?"

"He's been busy with the wedding, but when that's over -"

"John. Look at me."

"Harry -"

"I don't know him all that well, but I have the idea that if he was dissatisfied with the things as they are, he would let you know, wouldn't he?"

"I - I think so. I just, I don't know, Harry."

"Tell you what, let me get a few more sketches done, and then we can go get some lunch?"

"Sure, right." John opened his book again and tried to focus on the words, but his mind was elsewhere.


	81. Chapter 81

"So, how long does a portrait usually take?" John asked as they were walking into Speedy's for a quick sandwich.

"Depends, on the size of the canvas, the person, whether I like them or not and my mood." 

"You're not serious," John muttered as they slid into a booth.

"Sure, I am. One reason being an artist works for me is that artists are known to be temperamental jerks occasionally."

"Noooo...really?" John winked at her as he thought over what he could handle for lunch.

"Sure, I don't take commissions from everyone. If I didn't like the two of you, I wouldn't be doing yours. So...what's good?"

 

"Do you want to head over to the Tate? They have a Louise Bourgeois room right now, I've been a couple times, I find her work intriguing." 

"Why, because of her fascination with bodies and body parts?"

Sherlock grinned at her. "A bit, possibly. Yes." 

"Sure, why not?" Clara smiled back and linked arms with him. 

 

"I'll need a couple more sessions with you, then I need to work with Sherlock, so we are staying in the same B & B we used when Mum was with us."

"Don't be ridiculous, we have another bedroom."

"John."

"Harry. Seriously."

"John, this is something I've done for a while now, I know how intense it is to have your portrait done. You haven't realized it yet, but you will want your space, and I know I need mine. We can have dinner together and hang out, but you and Sherlock will need some privacy, especially since you two are still in that honeymoon phase."

John grinned into his plate and nodded. "Yeah, you're right. Sorry, I'm not used to - you know -"

"Other people?"

"Family, still not sure if I'm doing it right."

Harry laughed, then saw his face. "John, I don't know, honestly. I'm not sure how siblings are supposed to be either. Can we try for friends, first, or artist and subject at the very least?" She put out her hand towards him.

John took her hand gratefully, and nodded, "Deal."

 

"You think I should talk to him."

"About the cases, or why you don't take them anymore?"

"Uhmhmm."

"Don't you want to?"

"Not really. I don't want him to think I value the work more than I value what I have now with him. We are still figuring things out. I mean, I've been back for five years, but it took a long time before we were able to -"

They were standing in front of Bourgeois' giant 'Spider' and Sherlock stopped speaking for a moment, and looked at the delicacy of the spider's legs, how fragile, and yet, so strong. "It took a long time for him to trust me, and it took me a long time to know for certain that he loved me in the same way I love him. I'm afraid, Clara, that if I start taking cases again, he will think that he's not as important anymore, and that I need the casework more than I need him. And -"

"You're not sure -"

"I'm not sure how I will deal with him and the cases. I don't think I want to know, not sure I wouldn't go back to how I was before -"

"Do you miss it?"

Sherlock once again traced the spider with his eyes and marveled at the structure and the mind behind it. "Do I miss the work? Sometimes. I miss the puzzles, but I don't miss the frustration; I don't miss the fear that I will be too slow, or wrong, and something will happen that I don't foresee. It's not worth losing John over. In any way. I'd rather stop working crime scenes than lose John."

"Maybe tell him that?"

"Mmm. I don't know, I don't know how he would take it, honestly. I think he would feel he was holding me back from doing something that was important. It used to be, the work used to be necessary, before John, they kept me, the work kept me from needing other things. I don't need the cases, I don't need the adrenaline rush anymore, John is everything - sounds corny, but it's true. Does that make sense?"

Clara nodded. 

"I know. I just wish I knew how he would react, I just don't know, Clara."

 

John was back in the chair, and after another couple of hours was beginning to understand what Harry had meant. She had found a pose for him to try, and he could see her out of the corner of his eye, looking at him intently, as if searching for something more than a line, or a shape, but some kind of truth or meaning there. The book was held comfortably in his lap but the words ceased to make any sense.

"Need a break?"

John nodded and blinked, then stood up and stretched.

"No peeking, I need the loo."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

Harry looked at him and rolled her eyes. "Go ahead, I'm mostly playing, but I want to get an idea -" She shrugged, and John suddenly understood that words were not something she depended on to explain herself to the world. He wandered over to the easel and looked at the image of himself. then sat down hard on the stool that Harry had been sitting on. She had managed to capture something he had thought he had lost. He wasn't sure how to define it, he saw something of his younger self, that thing that Sherlock had seen in the snap of himself at two. Not exactly innocence or hope, it was, perhaps, just that he was finally at ease with his world.

 

Harry reentered the room and watched his face as it changed from wonder to recognition. Then he looked up and their eyes met in complete understanding. "Thank you. No, I mean it, Harry. You made me see, just, thank you."

"Done for the day, I think?"

"Yeah, I think so, too."


	82. Chapter 82

John had crashed on the couch after another session, and Harry was packing up her box when Sherlock and Clara returned. Sherlock raised an eyebrow at Harry, and she rolled her eyes at John, but smiled.

"I'll be back tomorrow, I'm just going to leave my things here, Clara and I have a room at the B & B, I think she explained?"

Sherlock nodded and sat down on the couch next to John. John sensed his presence, and reached out for him. Sherlock wrapped his arms around him and John resettled with a sigh.

Clara cleared her throat and Sherlock looked up at her and shrugged.

"See you two tomorrow, make sure you both get some rest; you are next, my friend." Harry warned, then she kissed both of them good night, and she and Clara silently left the flat. John slept for another hour before opening his eyes to find Sherlock looking down at him. He reached up and touched his face, sensing something was troubling him.

"Tell me, please?"

"I don't miss it. The Work. It has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with you. Somehow, since I've been back, you, us, this thing we've become has become my work. I've been sitting here for an hour, just holding you, not texting, not reading, not thinking about the wedding, or that mould experiment in the closet that I should deal with before too long. I've just been learning your face again."

"And you're not bored?" John's eyes twinkled at him and Sherlock's breath caught.

Sherlock closed his eyes, and whispered, "No, I'm not bored, John; today when I was out, without you, I realized I'd rather never work another crime scene than take the chance I'd lose you. You are so very necessary, John. I was afraid to tell you."

"Why?"

"Because I thought perhaps -"

"You thought maybe I would blame myself, that you weren't taking cases because of me, that you were losing something you loved because of me."

Sherlock nodded and waited.

"I finally understood today, when I saw a sketch that Harry had done of me, that I am finally at peace with my life, and that has everything to do with you. I don't need the adrenaline rush anymore; I'm not with you because you are dangerous and mercurial and mysterious. You are still mysterious, but I am here with you because you, because I - damn. You are gentle, and sweet and loving, and if you still wanted, still needed the cases, I'd be right by your side for as long as you wanted me there, but honestly, I'd rather you were here with me, like this. I never wanted to tell you that, I didn't want you to ever feel you had to give something up for me that was important to you, in order to make me happy. I want you to have everything you want, Sherlock."

"I do. You are. Everything I want, John. Well, you and -"

"a ton of Indian food?"

"What, did my stomach growl?"

"Only three or four times." John laughed and pulled Sherlock down into a kiss.

"John." Sherlock sighed and touched his face gently.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

John nodded, knowing exactly what Sherlock meant.

"Thank you, love, for telling me, it does matter, your happiness matters so much to me."

"I know, and it never ceases to amaze me. You never cease to amaze me, John Watson." His stomach complained again and John tried to smother his laughter.

"Order one of everything, please, I need a shower." Sherlock kissed him quickly and leapt from the couch.

"I love you."

"Love you, too. Food! I need food!"

"Arse."

"Yeah, but you love me anyway."

"Always, love."

Sherlock turned back, looked at him and whispered, "I know, I do, know, John."


	83. Chapter 83

Clara turned off the light and wrapped her long limbs around Harry. Usually she couldn't sleep when she was in the beginning stages of a portrait; normally, she would be up pacing, talking to herself, drawing things out, but this one was different.

"Talk to me?"

Harry snorted. Their routine hadn't changed since the night she had decided to let Clara love her. 

"I surprised him today," she mumbled. "I think I showed him to himself, he hadn't known." And then she was sound asleep. Clara kissed her hair and followed her.

 

Sherlock startled to awareness, John was sitting in the chair, wide awake. "Wha - John?"

John rubbed his face, then reached for Sherlock's hand, and held on tightly. "Nightmare. You were still dead. Then I woke up and you were there, just as you always are, your arms around me, holding me. I could barely breathe. I was just remembering when you came back, and I was afraid to get in bed with you, I was afraid if I fell asleep, I'd roll and hurt you, so after you would fall asleep, I'd get out of bed, make some tea, and just sit and watch you. I'd watch your chest move, and sometimes hold on to your wrist, just to be sure. Not very tightly, just enough so I could feel your pulse in my fingertips. Your fingers were still splinted, you were in so much pain, and I couldn't do anything to help you. You woke up every couple of hours, sometimes you'd open your eyes and look at me, ask me where you were, and I'd tell you, you'd nod and go back to sleep. Other times, you'd start talking, eyes wide open, but you didn't see me, you were seeing something else, somewhere else, but you were always talking to me, telling me over and over how sorry you were, how much you missed me -"

"John, come back to bed, please?"

John shook his head and took a small sip of the drink in his hand. Sherlock saw the slight tremor in his hand, and closed his eyes. "When I was away, I could see you, see you so clearly, but if I reached for you, you would vanish. When I came back, I was afraid to touch you. I was afraid if I touched you, you'd disappear, and I'd lose you. But you never left my side, John. You were always there, for me, even when I didn't deserve it. I am so sorry it took me so long, to see, to know. I am so very sorry, John."

John laid his drink on the table and kissed Sherlock's fingers, one by one.

"John, please?"

"You always deserved to be loved, Sherlock. There was never a day that I didn't -"

Sherlock threw the covers off and stood in front of John, without a sound, without a word, he helped John to his feet and waited for John to lean against him before wrapping his arms around him. John placed his palm over Sherlock's heart and closed his eyes. Sherlock took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and took another until he could feel John breathing with him. They stood there until John cleared his throat and whispered, "I'm sorr -"

Sherlock shook his head and pulled away just enough so he could see John's face in the darkness. Once again Sherlock was startled by the look in John's eyes, certainty mixed with the tiniest shred of doubt. Sherlock silently swore to himself that one day, John would know, could be sure that Sherlock would always be there. "Come, my heart, it's three in the morning, they will be here in a few hours, let's get some sleep." John nodded and let Sherlock help him back to bed.

"I -" John began, then stopped as he knew Sherlock understood. He laid his head gently on Sherlock's shoulder and let his fingers rest lightly over his wrist. "Tell me something, anything."

"The first thing I noticed about you, the very first thing was the way you looked at me. No one had ever looked at me in that way before. You were curious, you wanted to know me, no one had ever wanted that, but you. You were the first, John. My first friend, my first embrace, my first kiss - my first everything, my first and only, John. You have no idea how terrified I was that you wanted so much of me, I didn't know if I would disappoint you and you would leave like everyone always had before. I was always amazed that you stayed, even on my worst days, you always came back, you never walked away, and I didn't understand, John. And now -" Sherlock knew John was asleep, but he kept talking, knowing he wouldn't sleep any more that morning.

 

Harry set up her easel again, then stopped when she saw him staring off into space. "Sherlock?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you want to hold your violin, or use it somehow, would it help?"

"I just need to sit a bit if that's okay?"

"Sure."

She sat across from him in John's chair and saw the darkness in his eyes. "Something happened last night."

"It's nothing."

"Sherlock."

Sherlock rubbed his eyes and was silent for a long moment. "Nightmare. John's. From when I was dead. Dead for him. Thing is, I was never dead, I was just away. For him, I was dead. When I returned, he was at my gravestone, Harry. I was a ghost. For him, I was a ghost. I can't ever completely understand what that was like for him, those two years are gone, we'll never get them back. If I had been smarter, or if I had just found a way to tell him without putting him in danger, there had to be something I could have done, I just don't know what it was."

"Did you honestly do all you could do, Sherlock?"

Sherlock looked up at her, as if suddenly remembering her presence and why she was there. "Yes. I did. At the time, I thought I had no other choice but to do what I did."

Harry looked at him in that way that John did so often, a look that told him to get over himself.

"Just sit for now, close your eyes, sleep if you need to, we've got loads of time, yeah?"

Sherlock nodded and rested his head on his hand and promptly fell asleep.

 

Clara knew her routine she had with Harry wouldn't work with John. He had to want to talk, and today, he was silently working his way through something.

"Sorry. I'm not good company today."

"Don't worry, I live with an artist, remember. We can go for days without speaking, doesn't happen often these days, but I have learned it's part of the deal."

John looked over at her and raised an eyebrow. "Part of the deal?"

"Living with a Watson. I live with two, It's part of the package. I have my own doodahs, and we have learned to just accept those things and get on with it."

"It's that easy."

Clara laughed. "Of course it isn't. It's taken a long time, I'm sure you have your own ways when Sherlock has bad days?"

"Of course. It's harder when he has to deal with my bad days, when I can't even explain it to him. He always wants to fix things, this time he can't. And he thinks he should be able to. But, it's me." John sat down on the bench, and waited for Clara to sit down. "Had a bad nightmare this morning, from when he was dead. He was dead, Clara, to me, and most of the world, he was dead, legally dead; there was a certificate, a fucking funeral, Mycroft even put up a damn gravestone, he wasn't mostly dead, he was all dead. And yes, I have to make a joke about it. Then he came back, it was like I was living with a ghost the first few months. I swear I could almost see through him. But to him, he had simply been away on a case, a long, difficult case, but he was just 'away.' "

Clara nodded. "Must be hard to talk about it."

"We don't. We didn't, not until this morning. I made him listen, god - Clara, his face. And after I thought things were going to be better -"

"Why, what -"

"Last night he told me that he didn't really want to take cases as often and why, and I told him honestly how I felt about it, and then I - there's a part of me that still resents that he didn't trust me enough, that he felt he had to do it all on his own. And I know, I know, I do, I understand why he did it the way he did. I just wish we had those years back, and it has taken us so long to get to this place, to being able to talk to each other as openly as we do, and I threw it in his face this morning. He acted normally this morning, made tea as he always does, but -"

"You're afraid to ask him?"

John nodded and took a sip of coffee.

"He was still there, wasn't he?"

"Hmm?"

"When you woke up, he was right there, yeah?"

"Yeah, I woke up and he was still talking, he was almost hoarse. He looked down at me and smiled, it was the same smile, but I -"

"He loves you."

"Yeah, I know, Clara, that is the one thing I am sure of."

 

Harry made sketch after sketch of Sherlock sleeping. She marveled at the difference. At rest, his face seemed younger, the worry lines vanished, and yet, there was something so old about him; she noticed the scars that wrapped around his forearms and his wrists, they were usually hidden so carefully away, today he had left himself exposed, so wide open. He blinked and his eyes found hers, and he knew, of course he knew what she had been thinking about. "I was tied up for weeks. I had lost track of time because they never let me know what time of day it was, they lied to me about the day of the week, even what month it was, I didn't know how long I was there until I got out and saw a newspaper, eight weeks after they captured me. I've told John where they all happened, never told him how or what really. I couldn't do that to him. He'd take responsibility for it even more than he already does, and it was never his fault. I've never once blamed him, not ever, Harry. It was my decision. Yes, I had a choice, but it was never a choice, there was no way I'd ever choose my life over his. It was never a choice, Harry. I've promised him, sworn to him that I'll never do that again, never go without him again..." He stared at the scars on his arms and looked up at her again. 

Harry nodded. "I need a break, take a look if you want, be back in a minute."

Sherlock stood slowly, he was feeling every ache and pain today, he knew sleeping in the chair would only make things worse, but he had needed the rest. He blinked at the images of himself and wondered who that person was, that still quietness. And yet, he knew Harry had found a part of him that John needed to see, needed to be reminded of, that he was real, that he was all too human, and still very much alive. Somehow she had captured all of that in these long, sweeping lines. Even as he slept.

He turned to see her standing next to him. "How -"

"People tend to be more honest when they are asleep. When you are awake, you are bigger than life, even without trying; when you are sleeping, at rest, you simply are. You don't have to prove anything to anyone, Sherlock, most of all to John. Sometimes there are things you can't fix, can't make better. Those years you lost with him are gone, and both of you have to find a way to let them go, and I think you will have to do it on your own, because it was so different for each of you. Know what I mean?" Sherlock nodded and turned back to look at the drawings. He pointed to one and she smiled her agreement. "That's the one I was thinking of too." She sighed and closed her eyes, then opened them again, "Want my advice?" Sherlock shrugged, then nodded again. "It's simple, just be there for him, keep loving him, Sherlock."

"It seems that's why I was born, Harry, to love your brother."

Harry kissed his cheek, then rubbed the lipstick off. "I know, Sherlock. He's a very lucky sod."

"So am I, Harry, so am I."


	84. Chapter 84

Harry was laughing as Sherlock relayed 'his' version of a case that John had written up in their first few months together, when John and Clara returned to the flat carrying the requested dessert.

"He always was a romantic -"

John stopped short as he realized Sherlock was actively helping Harry cook dinner. "Since when do -"

Sherlock turned and put the knife down, then moved to stand in front of John, taking the tiramisu from him and placing it on the kitchen table; John tried to finish his question but Sherlock took his breath away with a kiss. Sherlock pulled back and whispered, "I missed you today."

"I missed you, too. Since when do you know how to cook?"

"Ah, that. Ollie would have thought she hadn't done her job if she had sent me to Uni without knowing my way around a kitchen."

"But -"

"You never asked." Sherlock grinned at him and kissed his forehead, then backed away shyly.

"No, I never did, did I?" John blinked at him and looked over at Harry who was busy stirring something on the stove. "Mum's sauce?"

Harry nodded and kept stirring. Sherlock opened the oven door and John breathed in his mother's garlic bread. "You made bread from scratch?'

"We had a bit of time this afternoon, so we went to the shops and -"

"You got him to go in the shops?" 

Harry finally turned the sauce off and turned to face her brother. "All you need is the proper enticements, he's never had Mum's pasta and garlic bread, I promised him it was at least the match to Angelo's and he was all for it."

"I, uhm, also bought a few other necessities -"

"Let me guess, you discovered the biscuit aisle, and you realized how many different chocolate ones there are now?"

"And the pickles, I didn't know -"

John tried to smother the laughter that was brewing, but to no avail. "I'm afraid to ask - no, please, don't tell me. Where did the dining room table come from?"

"Mrs. H had one in 221C, she thought it would be more suitable than the kitchen table, even after it was disinfected." 

Sherlock rolled his eyes as he added the final touches to the salad he had made, which he carried to the table, then grabbed John by the arm and propelled him to the couch. "Sit. Stop looking at me like you've never met me before," Sherlock murmured to him as they sat side by side for the first time in hours. John leaned his head onto Sherlock's shoulder and sighed heavily as he felt Sherlock's arm snake around his waist and pull him closer to his side. "I really did miss you today," Sherlock whispered, then kissed the top of John's head. "So much."

John closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the happy noises in the kitchen, taking in the scent of Sherlock next to him, the scents of home, and once again was overwhelmed by the feeling of being needed and loved for himself, he was enough as he was, as imperfect as he thought himself. "You are so necessary, John, so very needed, my heart." 

"Dinner is served! Come on boys!"

John sighed, then opened his eyes and found Sherlock gazing at him again, in that way that left him wondering what he had done to deserve the love this brilliant man gave him so unreservedly, and all he could do was nod at Sherlock. The twinkle in the detective's eyes told him words were unnecessary.

"Come on, lovebirds, come get it while it's still hot."

"We're coming, Harry, hold yer horses, already." John growled as he helped Sherlock from the couch. "Hold yer horses - damn, that smells -"

"Amazing." Sherlock took a deep breath in and looked at the people gathered at the table. "Simply amazing."


	85. Chapter 85

John walked Harry and Clara down to wait for their cab as Sherlock started the washing up.

"Thank you both for today, and for dinner -"

Harry kissed his cheek and grinned at him as he huffed and scrubbed at his face. "Go on upstairs and be with him. Thank you for - just for letting me do this, letting us do this for you. You have something special, John. He is remarkable, and so are you. No, you are. To come from us, from where we started, and to be able to see him, see who he is, and let him know you as he does...go."

John pulled his sister into a tight embrace, he felt her tense for a moment, then relax against him and wrap her arms around him. "I have missed you, Harry. I'm so proud of you. I love you, so much."

Clara bit her lip and touched Harry's shoulder, "Cab's here, love, long day of work tomorrow, yeah?" She took Harry into her arms, then helped her into the cab. She turned back and faced John, smiling softly at him. "Thank you, John. You don't know how long she's wanted to hear those words from you, and she knows, she does know, John." John nodded and kissed her cheek then closed the cab door as she slid in next to Harry. He watched the cab until it disappeared into the mix of traffic.

Sherlock was humming as he was drying a plate, when John entered the kitchen. He watched as a slight smile overtook and softened Sherlock's sharp features and he felt himself tremble with, what, exactly? Want, yes, need, definitely, but it was something else. 

"John?" Sherlock was looking at him, the smile still there, his eyes were dancing, lit up, brighter than John could ever remember.

"I love you."

Sherlock hung up the towel and nodded, then moved towards him slowly, his eyes never leaving John's.

"No. I -"

Sherlock was suddenly there in front of him, close enough to touch, close enough to kiss. "John."

"Please?"

Sherlock moved closer and took John's face in his large hands, and kissed him as if they had never kissed before. He felt everything else fall away, everything but Sherlock seemed to vanish. "Shhh, John, I have you. I am real, John. I am here. I came back for you. Without you, I could not have survived, I stayed alive for you, for us, no matter what they did to me, you, the idea of you, kept me from giving up. You, just you, John."

John pulled back and touched Sherlock's face, his eyes were soft and smiling at him, and he leaned into John's touch, then laid his hand over John's and moved John's hand to his lips. "Sherlock. I - I need - I - please?"

"Yes, John."

 

Lestrade knocked on the slightly open door, then pushed it open. He found John and Sherlock sitting on the couch, more still than he had ever seen them before. He was puzzled until he heard a curse from behind an easel.

"Damn! The light is going! Take a break boys. Who're you? No - wait, I know you, you're uhm, Gavin, George - no wait, Greg! Lestrade, from the blog."

"And if you aren't a Watson, I should resign my job, because you are the spitting image of - you must be Harry."

Harry wiped her hands on a rag and offered him her hand. "Yup, Harry Watson."

Greg took her hand and was only mildly surprised by the strength of her grip. "Just going to wash up, then maybe we can go eat? I'm starving."

John and Sherlock stretched and got up slowly from the couch.

"I've tried texting the last few days - and you haven't been at the clinic, Susan said you took a few days?"

"We're having our portraits done, wedding present." Sherlock yawned and went into the kitchen.

"I've got a case, got the file with me, do you think -"

"You can ask him, depends how weird it is."

"How weird -?"

John closed his eyes and nodded towards the kitchen, "Just go talk to him."

Greg went into the kitchen and cleared his throat. "So -"

Sherlock turned and faced him and Greg knew. "Yeah, okay -"

"Walk?"

Greg nodded and Sherlock went over to John and kissed him, then grabbed his coat, "Back in a bit, should I bring something home?"

"Harry likes the Thai place -"

"Got it."

 

They walked in silence side by side for a few blocks until Sherlock began. "Ever since I've been back, no, let me back up. You know that back before I met John, the work, the cases were everything I had, and you gave that to me. You didn't have to, you took a huge risk for me, not just once, but over and over again. And I don't think I have ever properly thanked you enough for that. So, uhm, thank you." Sherlock spoke these words quietly, and didn't turn to face Lestrade, but faced forward and kept walking. Sherlock opened the door of the restaurant, spoke a few words to the owner, then walked over to a booth and Greg followed. 

"I'm done, Greg, as far as crime scenes are concerned. I can't allow something to happen to John, or make him watch something happen to me again. I can't -"

Greg nodded and searched Sherlock's face for a moment. The restless, arrogant, but brilliant young man he had met so long ago had been replaced, no, that wasn't the right word, he had grown into a thoroughly decent, loving human being. Greg shook his head. He had always been that at heart, he had just needed someone who could love him in a way that allowed him to be the man he could be.

"Thank you."

Sherlock looked down at his hands, then back up at Greg and shrugged, "What for?"

"For your assistance, but mostly for your friendship. And for, well, for accepting me, as part of your family."

Sherlock nodded. "You make him happy, and I can see that marriage agrees with you."

Greg laughed. "Yeah. I wish he were at home more, some day it will change, but, yeah, it's good."

"I'll work on those cold cases and if you are really stuck, I'll take a look at photos, but -"

"Understood. I'm just glad you have John. You guys doing okay these days?'

"Yeah, we are working through things, he's getting to know his mum and Harry again, and we are still dealing with stuff."

"Stuff. Yeah, stuff takes time."

The owner brought over the order and Sherlock stood up and thanked him, "I got plenty, please join us, you'll get a kick out of Harry. She's quite a fan of the blog, and she'd love to hear your version of things, our memories of things tend to be -"

"Fuzzy?"

"Hmmm, a bit, I dunno, rosy, I suppose is the word that comes to mind." 

"Gotchya, yeah, sure, I'm on my lunch break. She swear like John?" They walked out the door and headed back to Baker Street.

"Even more so, if you can believe it." Sherlock laughed as he told Greg one of Harry's stories of the Watson kids as teenagers, in Harry's voice with her original hand motions. 

"No way!"

"Truth, at least John acknowledged the events did happen, though probably not quite as colourfully as described."

 

Sure enough, Harry wanted all the dirt on Sherlock and John's early days.

"Aww, come on, Greg, you had no idea?"

"Course I did, I knew long before they did."

Sherlock was sleeping curled up next to John on the couch, and John was gently threading his fingers through Sherlock's hair, watching him sleep, paying no attention at all to the conversation going on in front of them. "Yeah, I knew the very first time John showed up at a crime scene with him. It just took them time is all, just took time. Mind if I see the work you're doing?"

 

"So they are okay?"

"More than, I think." Greg murmured as Mycroft washed his back gently.

"And Harry?"

"Harry is a trip and a half, but seems to understand both of them in a way that few people can. I saw some sketches that she had done of them, and it almost seemed like she managed to capture their souls somehow, that part that makes them who they are, know what I mean?"

"Hmmm." Mycroft kissed Greg's neck and he shuddered, his train of thought had all but vanished.

"Myc." He turned in Mycroft's arms and captured Mycroft's mouth with his.

"Gregory."

"Uhmhmmm."

"Time to get out."

"Uhmmhmm."

Mycroft stepped out of the water first and helped Greg out of the tub, wrapping him in his arms. Greg shivered and sighed as their bodies connected after another week of being apart.

"When is this going to get easier, Myc? Please tell me someday this will get easier?"

"Give me the word, and I will quit tomorrow."

Greg froze and shook his head. "No. Don't. Don't put this on me."

"Gregory?"

"If your work is important enough for you to stay away so long from me, then do it. If it isn't, you need to decide for yourself. Remember? Remember - no. Please, Myc. Don't do this to me."

"God - I'm sorry - that was stupid. Gregory. Look at me. Of all people, I should - Damn it. Forgive me, please?"

Greg put on his robe and tried to breathe. "Just don't ever -"

"I want to be home with you. More than anything. We have more than enough of everything. I guess, I'm just used to it - would you really want me underfoot all the time?"

"Would I want you underfoot - Mycroft Holmes - you may resign only if you promise me to write me that book of poetry that you have in here." Greg placed his hand over Mycroft's heart and let it rest there for along moment. They took a breath together and Mycroft closed his eyes. Greg mumbled into Mycroft's chest. "I don't care if it ever gets published or even printed, I want, I need to see your heart, love. Please."


	86. Chapter 86

Busy? - M

Come on up. - S

 

Sherlock was working on seating arrangements when Mycroft wearily entered the flat. He closed his laptop and sighed as he took in his brother's appearance. 

"Sit."

Mycroft knew he couldn't hide from his brother, now, more than ever, so he sat.

"Not sure what to do."

Sherlock looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

"Not sure if I can do it."

"Do what?"

"Leaving isn't the problem. The world has no use for me any longer, I'm 'old school.' Too much so."

"What is it then?"

"He wants - he expects me, he's asking me to write again."

"And?"

"I don't know if I can."

"Why did you start writing?"

"Why?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at him and waited.

"It was how I dealt with the world. Words. I could control them. That's how I've lived my life, controlling my words, controlling my thoughts, being in control of -"

"Everything?"

"Not quite everything."

Sherlock grinned at him. "Write for him."

"What?"

"He's asking you to write, so write for him."

Mycroft moved to the window and looked out. "If you had to write about John, could you do it?"

"If you recall, brother mine, I am marrying him in less than a month, I do have to write about him, I have to write vows for him."

"It's not the same."

"No, of course it isn't. I'm not a poet. You are. Or at least you made him believe you were."

"It was different then."

"Yes. So your writing will be different. You have grown up, you have married the man you love more than anything. You love him more than you love being in control."

Mycroft's head snapped up sharply.

Sherlock rolled his eyes then said quietly,"You must if you are even considering this."

"You think I'm crazy."

Sherlock shook his head. "No. You want him to be happy. What would make him happy, he believes, is to have you at home."

"It's the same story again, isn't it?"

"Is it?"

"He's asking me to -"

"To?"

"Make a choice."

Sherlock nodded.

"Between him and -"

"Is it?"

"What?"

"Is the question really about the job?"

"Of course it isn't."

"Right. You have to decide whether his happiness is important to you."

"Of cour - damn it - that's not -"

"You're worried that too much of you isn't a good thing. For the last five years he hasn't spent a lot of time with you, and you think - Myc. It's a risk, and you have been doing the damn math in your head. Damn it, Myc. This is Greg, he is not an unstable third world country, he is not a problem to be solved. You have spent your adult life running away from him. No, don't look at me like that. You could have gotten on a different plane all those years ago, you had choices, and you made them, and yet, he is still with you. He married you. He took the biggest risk of his life and married you. And he is asking you to give him a chance to spend time with you, to be with you, to know you as he believed you were all those years ago."

"That was a year, a year, Sherlock, out of fifty."

"You have been with him for five years, Mycroft. He knows who and what you are, and he still sees the poet he fell in love with and has been in love with for thirty years for whatever reason -" Sherlock rolled his eyes and began again. "The point I'm making is that he is there, Myc. He is there and asking you to be with him." He stood up and went to the window lowering his voice to almost out of Mycroft's hearing. "I only lost two years with John, you lost twenty-five." He turned around sharply and stared at his brother. "Take a chance, Myc. I know you love him. I saw it when we came to your house that night, I hear how he feels about you when he talks about you. He has a job he's excels at and enjoys doing. But, if you think about it honestly, if you asked him to give it up, he would, if it meant he could be with you more. You are his world, Myc." Sherlock heard the street door close and he knew they were about to be interrupted. "Be nice."

"I'm always nice." 

Sherlock rolled his eyes one more time and went to open the door.

 

Lestrade didn't look up as his office door opened. "Whatever it is, put it on my desk, I'm going home, my husband -"

Mycroft closed the door, drew the blinds and locked the door. "Is an idiot. And would like to take you home and -"

"You did it."

"Two more weeks to clear things up, and then I'm done." 

"You actually did it."

"I was growing tired of the three-piece suits, and Putin - and the elections..."

"Did I mention how much I love you today?" Lestrade growled softly as he pushed Mycroft against the door and snogged him until they were both breathless.

Mycroft laughed as soon as he could catch his breath again and shook his head. "I think you neglected to -"

"I love you." Greg whispered against Mycroft's lips, before kissing him one last time, nearly taking Mycroft to his knees. "I promise, you won't regret it, Myc."

 

Thank you. - M

How do you feel? - S

Terrified, but I've never seen him as happy as he was when I told him. Not since - M

I expect a signed first edition when it's published. - S

You'll get the second copy. - M

 

"Everything okay?" Lestrade asked him as he turned off the light and slid into bed.

"Yes, everything is perfect."

"Are you sure?"

Mycroft nodded as Greg straddled him and their eyes met in the moonlight. "I've never been more sure of anything or anyone in my life, Gregory."


	87. Chapter 87

"Seriously?" John looked up at Sherlock over the top of his book.

"Uhmhmm."

"The British Government just resigned his post to stay home and write poetry."

"Yep."

"And you encouraged him."

"He came by and asked for my advice. I only told him what he already knew. Damn it!"

"What?"

"A grey hair." Sherlock had pulled a single silver strand from his hair and was glaring at it in the mirror.

John snorted and closed his book, laying it aside, then rose from his chair and stood behind Sherlock, resting his hands on Sherlock's hips and began nuzzling his neck.

"Don't try to... oh. You can do that, yes, that, again, uhmhmmmm."

"You know what it means?"

"What what means...oh, John, damnnnn."

"It means you have lived long enough to have a grey hair. Do you know how incredibly sexy that is?"

Sherlock turned around and found John looking at him in that way that made his thoughts screech to a halt. "John."

John kissed his forehead and whispered, "I intend to be at your side long enough to see all of these curls turn into silver, do you understand me, love? I intend to be with you so long that you will have grown bored of me, but you've become accustomed to having me around so -"

Sherlock pulled him tightly to his chest and simply held on until John felt his body shake. "God, love, I'm sorry, I -"

Sherlock shook his head then kissed the top of John's head and sighed. "I can't imagine there ever being a time when I have had enough time with you, John, there isn't enough time in the world for me to love you. There will never be a time when I will take your presence for granted, not ever."

 

"Why?" Greg murmured above Mycroft as he traced the tattoo with a finger.

"Hmmmph?" Mycroft blinked to awareness slowly.

"Why did you decide to resign?"

"Honestly?"

Greg nodded and Mycroft rolled onto his back and pulled Greg against him. "I went to see Sherlock. And he told me things I knew about myself, had always known them, and I realized how much time I've wasted, time I could have spent with you. For the longest time, my career was all I had, it was my life because I gave you up too easily. So, I became what I became, I didn't know how to be anything else, I didn't want to get attached again because my heart belonged to you, so I never did. Until that night when I needed you, when I understood that I had a choice if only you would take me back. And yet, for five years, I have carried on as if I don't have anyone else to consider, as if I am still alone. And I'm not, somehow, you have stayed, and not only stayed by my side, but you married me, and still -" Greg moved as if to speak and Mycroft shook his head. "No, let me finish, please. Still. Even after we got married, I continued to do what I've always done, because I was afraid, I was afraid Gregory, that you might discover that I'm not who you want or need anymore. But when I was with Sherlock, he reminded me, how much pain he was still in from being apart from John for two years, when we had been parted for so much longer. And he told me, he told me -" Mycroft rolled so he could look into Greg's eyes, he was afraid to touch him, so he held back. "He told me to write for you. He told me to write to you, the man I love more than I love being the British Government."

Greg was silent, far too silent for too long. Mycroft sighed and began to get out of bed, thinking he had lost everything in one day, when a trembling hand stopped him. "Myc. Please. It's just I never saw you as anyone but the man I fell in love with; you have brought home work more often than I like, but you have never been the British Government to me, perhaps it's how you see yourself, but love," Greg touched Mycroft's face as if he were touching him for the first time, cautiously and tenderly. "My love, you will always be the poet who captured my heart so long ago. It's who you are to me, it's who you have always been when you walk in that door at the end of the day. Perhaps it was selfish of me to ask you -"

"You've asked for so little from me, Gregory, the first time you asked me to choose you, I waited too long, and I lost you. I've finally realized your happiness is more important to me than anything else. And in a little less than two weeks, my hope is that you won't regret having me around so much." He tried to smile, but the relief he felt overwhelmed him and he buried his face into Greg's shoulder. 

Greg wrapped around him gently, cradling him as he felt him fall asleep. He kissed Mycroft's hair, then reached for his phone.

 

Thank you. - G

What for? - S

For giving him back to me. - G

He would've figured it out on his own eventually. - S

Thank you anyway. - G

You're welcome. - S

 

Sherlock turned off his mobile and sighed as John snuggled closer. "I'm right here, John. I'm here, my heart."


	88. Chapter 88

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm skipping to the day after Mycroft's last day of work; he is in Sussex, Greg is supposed to join him in the evening, and it's two weeks from the weekend of the wedding.

Mycroft sat at the table in the garden and waited for the sunrise.

Lizzie came out with two mugs of tea and sat down next to him, "Couldn't sleep?"

"I never sleep well, unless I'm at home with Gregory."

"Why didn't you wait to come with him?"

"I needed to get out of London, and he had a meeting, and then a case, he was still there, so he caught it, sounds like a bad one. I offered to wait at home, he told me he'd be here when he could get away." Mycroft wrapped his hands around the mug and took a sip. "It figures, doesn't it?"

Lizzie waited as she always did; she closed her eyes and listened for the morning to begin. Most days, she slipped out of bed to have her 'first breakfast' as Bits called her first cuppa of the morning. She remembered retorting gently that she was a little tall to be a Hobbit, and kissed Bits before she rolled out of bed and carried on as she always had. They were both independent creatures of habit, and yet, somehow, they made it work, some days she wondered how on earth they had lived apart and other days -

"How did you adjust, Lizzie?"

"Hmm?"

"Having Bits here must have taken some getting used to."

"Yes, of course it did, and we are still figuring things out, it's really only been a month since she moved in."

"But?"

"But, it is more than I ever thought I'd ever have, Myc. She is everything she was before and yet- " A grin brightened her features and Mycroft blinked, recalling how Sherlock had mentioned he had never seen her truly smile until she had been reunited with Bits. He nodded and smiled to himself as he took another sip of tea.

"Do you mind giving up your work to be at home for him?"

"No. That's the odd thing, Liz, I thought it would be harder to walk away, but yesterday as I left the building for the last time, the machine was still grinding away, and I realized I had been a cog in that machine, I had believed I was an important one, and yes, I'll be replaced by three new people, as they don't have anyone with my years of experience, or ease with languages, so they had to rework things, but, they won't miss me. I made the right decision, I wish I had done it sooner, but, I'm just used to being in control of things, and I have no idea what I'm doing, or what to expect, really, and I find it a bit nerve wracking."

"What do you want to do?"

Mycroft put his mug down and realized he hadn't really thought about what he wanted to do, now that he could do anything he wanted. "I do want to write, I had all these grand notions back then, Lizzie; I was going to write something that would change things, something important, and maybe I can still do that, but mostly, I want to be there for him. Not sure how it's going to work yet. Hoping he will tell me -"

"Hmm, maybe you can start by joining me in the big beautiful bathtub when you have finished your tea?"

"Liz, you could have said -" Mycroft turned to see Greg, obviously dead on his feet, but smiling at him.

Lizzie winked at Greg, then shrugged and smothered a grin as she headed back in the house.

"You heard all of that, didn't you?"

Greg nodded, took Mycroft's hands in his and blew out a breath. "You have no idea how much it meant to me that I knew exactly where you were last night, here with Lizzie, Bits and Ollie instead of on a plane or in one of those damned meetings that take days. I knew you'd be here waiting for me, and you'd be here to listen if I needed you to, or just hold me while I sit quietly, or make love to me. It's ridiculous how much it means to me, that you are sitting there staring at me like I'm an idiot."

Mycroft shook his head and couldn't think of a single coherent thing to say, so he simply led Greg into the house and into their room. "Tell me, Gregory, tell me what you need, love."

"Can you just hold me while I sleep, Myc? I just need to feel you around me, please?"

Mycroft nodded and undressed them both, then helped Greg into bed and slid in next to him. Their eyes met and Mycroft understood how much he was needed, how much it truly meant to Greg that he was there, he didn't need to say a word or fix anything, it was simply enough that he was there. He took Greg into his arms and knew he was exactly where he needed to be. "Sleep, love. I'll be right here, I promise."


	89. Chapter 89

"Come on, John, let me see."

"I look ridiculous." John muttered at the mirrors that surrounded him.

"John."

John rolled his eyes and opened the door and walked out as if he were about to face a firing squad.

"Oh. John. Turn around? Come on, please? Let me -" 

John sighed, but did as he was asked, and was rewarded by a whispered "Damn!" He finally managed to grin for the first time that afternoon as he turned back around to see Sherlock with his mouth open, but no words coming from it. 

"Really? I kinda feel like a misplaced penguin and it's a bit snug -"

"In all the right places," Sherlock mumbled after a brief pause. "You are -"

"Crazy to wear this get up in Sussex in June. However, people tend to do crazy things when they happen to be madly in love, I suppose." John moved closer and kissed Sherlock chastely along his jaw.

"Hmmm...not a good idea..."

"Really...now why is that?" John's eyes roamed over his equally poshly attired husband-to-be and giggled. "Just a couple more weeks and I'll be able to -"

"Two weeks." Sherlock whispered against his lips. "Just two more weeks, John."

"Gentlemen?"

They both looked up and cleared their throats. Sherlock managed to find his voice first. "George, they are magnificent. Your work is impeccable as always."

"Thank you, Sir, and may I say you do the suits justice, both of you. May I offer my most sincere congratulations to you, Sherlock, and John?" He bowed and left them to undress.

"I do believe those are the most words I've ever heard him say in one go, John, and I've known him since I had my first suit."

"How old were you?" John asked as Sherlock carefully undid his top button for him.

Sherlock closed his eyes and thought back. "Hmmm...I think I must have been 3 or 4."

"I bet you were adorable," John grinned.

"I was never adorable, John." Sherlock rolled his eyes, but bit his lip as he finished unbuttoning John's shirt for him. His voice tumbled into that register that John could feel in his toes. "I think we need to go home, now -"

"I thought we had 'things' that we needed to do." John whispered as he helped Sherlock from his jacket.

"We still have a couple of weeks, and I just forgot what it was that needed doing."

"I am a bit peckish -"

"We can order take-away in a bit, John, please?" Sherlock's voice nearly undid John, but he managed to hold himself together.

"Remember, we need to take care-"

Sherlock nodded and they somehow managed to hang up their finery neatly and leave with a bit of their dignity intact.

"I'm so glad Mrs. H is away this weekend -" John whispered into Sherlock's neck as they finally made it into the flat. 

"John. Oh damnnn..." Sherlock's knees quivered slightly, and nearly gave way; John caught him before he crumbled to the floor.

"I have you, love. How am I going to last through the ceremony and the reception with you looking like that -"

"It was a slight miscalculation on my part, I didn't know how stunning you would, mmmm...bedroom. Now."

"Yes, love."

 

How are the suits? - M

Perfect, simply perfect. - S

How goes retirement, so far? - S

Early days yet, but so far, so good. - M

 

Mycroft turned off his mobile and looked over at Greg, who was sitting across from him in the kitchen. They had slept for ten straight hours, and all they had done for the hour they had been awake was to simply sit and hold hands, not a single word had been spoken. Bits turned and glimpsed them through the window as she and Lizzie sat outside in the garden sipping their G & Ts.

"Those boys -"

Lizzie nodded. "They are going to be just fine, Bits."


	90. Chapter 90

Sherlock watched John with a sigh as he left the bedroom and headed for the bathroom to begin his day when he suddenly realized he hadn't yet started to write his vows. It had been John's idea to write their own, and Sherlock had agreed, and now he was running out of time.

"Damn."

It was a Monday, John had an early shift, so he would have some time to himself to work on the most important words he would ever say to the man he was ridiculously in love with. John got dressed and sat on the edge of the bed and smiled at him before kissing him gently.

"I'll be done around noon, meet me in the park for lunch?"

"Hmm, yeah, sure." Sherlock blinked at him and nodded. "Noon."

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good, just thinking through things, you know, things. Things I still have to do." Sherlock smiled at him as he stood and pulled on his robe, then brushed his lips against John's hoping he wasn't acting any stranger than normal.

"Sure you're okay?" John looked at him closely and Sherlock nodded.

"Just need coffee or something. Someone kinda kept me up late last night."

"Oh yeah?" John smirked, then kissed him on his forehead, and leaned against him for a brief moment before looking down at his watch. "Damn, almost late. I love you."

"I love you." Sherlock walked him to the door and sighed as he leaned against it after he closed it. "Now how the hell do I tell you?"

 

John was halfway down the stairs when he realized he had left a first draft of his vows open on his laptop, which was sitting on his side of the desk, and he hadn't bothered with a password in years. Maybe Sherlock wouldn't - ah well. He shook his head, finished walking down the steps and banged out the door.

 

Sherlock sat down at the desk and looked over his 'to do' list when he noticed John's laptop. Just sitting there, open. He shouldn't. He really shouldn't. He stood up, then sat back down in his chair, and tried to focus on the last few items that were left. He got up to make coffee and his eyes drifted over. No. Stop. John had a thing about his privacy, he had a right to have things that were just his, and it was wrong for him to want to. Damn. Coffee. Coffee and a shower, and then he needed to make sure the rings were ready. Good, yes. Stop thinking about it. Vows. Right. Words. First, Coffee. Coffee made, Sherlock went back to his desk and got out a pen and a notebook, and began to write.

 

"I'm sitting here staring into my coffee trying to find the right words that will tell you what today means to me. I think you know by now, I think most people in this chapel know why we are here today. Because I was an idiot the day after I met you. I sometimes wonder what my life, what our life would be now if I had told you that very first time over our very first dinner what I knew, what I felt that very first time our eyes met when Mike brought you into the lab. You probably would have laughed in my face, but what if you hadn't. Would you have been brave enough, would you have seen what was in my heart then?"

"Damn it. Rubbish!" He turned the page and began again.

"I think sometimes you wonder -"

"Nope." Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes.

"I think it took me so long to tell you - well there were circumstances, of course, but -"

"Blast!" 

"Loving you is the -"

"Ughhhhhhh." He closed the notebook and carried his cold coffee to the sink. Shower. Maybe that would help. Sherlock went back to their bedroom and noticed he had missed several texts from John.

 

Do you mind closing my laptop? - J

You might have already looked, if you did, never mind - J

I mean, I don't think you did - J

Damn. Sorry. What do you want for lunch? - J

I love you - J

 

Sherlock sat down on the edge of their bed and took a deep breath.

 

I didn't look. - S

I wanted to, but I didn't. - S

I promise. - S

I'll get us some sandwiches from Speedy's - S

I love you too. - S

 

Sherlock looked at the time, he still had a couple of hours. Just keep it simple. Just tell him. Forget there will be other people there, forget all of the music and flowers, just focus on John, the way he will look that day. No, think of how he sounded last night and how he looked early this morning as he was falling asleep in your arms mumbling how he loved you. He went back to the desk and began to write.


	91. Chapter 91

Greg watched Mycroft's face change as he got close. This, their love making, how they touched one another - they had known since the very first time, how the other needed to be touched. He had thought that over time, it would stop being like this, there - that look in his eyes. Greg nodded and Mycroft pulled out one more time, then pushed in once more and Greg was somehow lost and found all at once. Mycroft shuddered and Greg gathered him in his arms and held him through the aftershocks. Mycroft pulled out carefully, then sighed.

"I'll miss you, today."

Greg whispered, "I'll miss you, too."

For the first time ever, or at least it felt like that, they had spent a weekend together, just them, even though they were in Sussex with Lizzie, Bits and Ollie. They had spent most of their time in bed or just sitting together, or just holding hands as they walked through the village, not caring or even seeing anyone else. Mycroft's phone had been turned off, not even looked at once, all he could see was Greg. At first it was disconcerting to have Mycroft's full attention and then Greg began to study Mycroft's features and he realized he had missed things, little details over the years, like that dimple when he grinned in a certain way, the almost invisible scar on the bridge of his nose - "Sherlock, he was four..." and how his lips changed, how they curled slightly before he rolled his eyes in response to something that tickled him.

And now, it was Monday, they had driven home last night, Mycroft was the more awake of the two so he offered to drive.

"When was the last time you drove a car, Myc?"

"Hmmm?"

"Are you even licensed? I didn't think you knew how?" Greg had teased him. That's when he saw his lips move ever so slightly, then he rolled his eyes and chuckled.

"Yes, fully licensed, they made me take a test every year to make sure I was up to snuff."

So, Greg fell asleep against Mycroft's shoulder as he got them home safely, if a bit slower than usual.

Somehow Greg made himself leave Mycroft in bed and went to shower. When he got out, he could smell coffee, good coffee in the kitchen. He dressed, then found Mycroft standing at the counter, wearing the robe Greg had given him for his birthday last year. "Smells amazing." Mycroft turned around and handed him his coffee, the robe was loosely tied around his waist, leaving nothing to the imagination. Greg put the coffee down and whispered, "Damn, love, how am I going to leave you here today and go back to - " he laid his hands on Mycroft's hips and pulled him closer. "Thank you for this weekend, thank you for being there for me."

Mycroft pulled back just enough and nodded. "Thank you for giving me the courage to start over, love." They both leaned forward until their foreheads met, and they stood there quietly for a moment before Greg's phone buzzed; he answered, and suddenly the weekend was over. 

"I have to go. God - I love you." He gave Mycroft a quick kiss and was gone.

 

Mycroft drank his first cup of coffee, then showered and dressed and carried his second cup to the backyard.

 

How are you? - L

I'm fine. - M

Myc. - L

I miss him, I was so aware of him this weekend. - M

I noticed. - L

Sorry. - M

Don't apologise for loving him like that. - L

It's just I was able to shut everything out but him, and now - M

Now, its hard to breathe. - L

Yes. - M

Just focus on breathing today. Sometimes that's enough. - L

Think I'll go for a walk. - M

Be careful out there amongst the city folk. - L

Will do. Love you. - M

Love you, sweetie. - L

 

Greg unlocked the front door and blew out a sigh of relief as he leaned against it. He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. He slipped off his shoes and followed his nose to the backyard; Mycroft was at the grill, in his Dead shirt and shorts, barefoot, with a beer in his hand. He looked up as he heard Greg approach and a smile lit up his sharp features into something softer, and Greg's heart flipped.

"Gregory."

"Love."

"Go get changed, the boys will be over in a bit, hope you don't mind."

Greg grinned and shook his head. "Back in a tick." He kissed Mycroft's cheek and went back inside, changed and grabbed a beer from the fridge. He sat at the table and watched Mycroft's muscles shift under the time worn cotton shirt as he moved.

"I love you."

Mycroft turned his head and their eyes met and Greg didn't need to hear the words, but Mycroft spoke them anyway. "I love you, more than anything."

"God that smells amazing!" John and Sherlock came through the kitchen door, bearing a bakery box and a bottle of wine. Greg grinned at Mycroft and watched his husband's eyes glitter, happy and at peace, and somehow he fell in love all over again.


	92. Chapter 92

Mycroft closed his laptop and sighed. It was pouring outside, only nine in the morning, Greg had been gone for two hours. He had been sitting hunched over the keyboard for an hour, waiting for the words to come. He opened the top drawer of his desk in search of pen and paper, finding a brightly wrapped package instead that he knew hadn't been there just yesterday. Mycroft undid the paper carefully, and lifted the lid of a beautifully crafted wooden box to find a leather journal, an antique fountain pen made over to hold cartridges and a note in Greg's careful printing.

 

"Love -

A couple of nights ago, I remembered how you were never without a leather bound journal and a fountain pen, you were always writing, scribbling things down. Sometimes you would read it to me when I couldn't sleep, it was usually bits and bobs of things you saw during the day, other times, lists of things to do, and once, when I had the flu, you lay in bed curled around me as I shivered and you read me this, I've never forgotten:

"Some day, when the world is kinder, I will look into your bright blue eyes, take your beautiful hands into mine, and tell you of my love. There will be a time when we won't have to hide, when you will wear my ring."

I have thought of those words in times when we were apart, when I thought I'd never see you again, or when you were just a plane ride away, and as you gaze into my eyes when we are making love. You have no idea how often your words save me, Myc, so many times, as I work a crime scene and see the worst of what people are capable of, these words come to me, and I know you are there; my sanctuary, my heart, my love. I hope when you use these, you will remember you are always with me."

 

Mycroft closed his eyes and thought of them in their tiny bedsit, Greg barely conscious as he whispered those words into his ear, holding on to him, praying to a god he hadn't needed before or believed in that the man in his arms would come back to him. It had taken two more days before his fever broke, and he had sworn then that he would never leave him. He had made him a promise that had taken far too many years for him to keep.

Mycroft laid his land on the journal, a bit larger than the books he would shove into his back pocket and pull out when something struck him. He picked it up and held it to his nose, it held the scent of old libraries and Greg's aftershave, a bit smoky and of home. He held the pen in his hand, it was of a weight and size that fit him perfectly, crafted in black and gold, elegant, yet simple in its design, so much like the one he had carried as a young man. He opened the journal, dated the page and began to write.

 

"For my love, the one who knows my heart, and keeps it safe."

 

He put down his pen and picked up his mobile.

 

Thank you. - M

You found them, will they do? - G

They are perfect, love. - M

Careful, you might make me blush at work. - G

I hope I will be able to do more than that when you get home tonight. - M

Myc. - G

I love you. - M

I love you, too, go write me something before I have to take an early lunch and rush home. - G

It's 9:10 in the morning. - M

See my problem? I'll be home for lunch. - G

 

Mycroft grinned as he turned off his mobile and threw it in the drawer. He picked up his pen once again and thought of last night as he began to write.

 

Sherlock and he were sitting outside as John and Greg had gone inside to watch a match; John was the only one who understood Greg's mad passion for football, and Mycroft had gratefully relinquished the responsibility to him. He picked up his glass of wine and looked over at his brother, who seemed to be lost in his thoughts.

"Sherlock?"

"Hmm?" He met Mycroft's eyes and blinked as if coming back from somewhere else.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm - I just - there are times when I lose track of where I am." He shook his head and shrugged. "I'm also trying to write my vows for the ceremony, I'm trying to put into words what he means to me so it makes sense to other people, when I'm still trying to work it out for myself." He ruffled his hair in frustration as if it would help clear his head.

"Why does it matter if other people understand?" Mycroft muttered as he looked up into a rare clear night sky.

"Well, because, other people will be there and they need to understand -"

"No, they don't, the vows are for him. The people sitting in the pews are simply witnesses to the act of the two of you giving yourselves to one another. It doesn't matter if they understand the whys and wherefores. Write for John, Sherlock. You've never worried what other people thought before, why on earth would you begin now?"

Sherlock snorted, then began laughing, Mycroft watched him for a moment, then joined him.

"Thank you, Myc." Sherlock wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes and blew out a long breath, as if he had been holding it in for days. He turned his eyes to the sky and pointed towards a collection of stars. "John says that one is Hercules, and that one is -"

"Ursa Major. I used to know them too, Greg taught me once, a long time ago."

Sherlock stretched his hand out to his brother, and without hesitation, Mycroft laid his hand in Sherlock's. "We are very lucky, brother mine," Sherlock whispered, his eyes still searching the darkness.

"Yes, Sherlock, we are. Very fortunate, indeed."


	93. Chapter 93

Harry began laying paint on her canvas, just background colours for now, it would be months before it would be dry, but she wanted to at least begin before the day of the wedding. Sherlock's eyes were closed as if he were sleeping, though she knew he wasn't asleep, there was too much movement going on behind his eyelids.

"How is everything?"

"Everything?" Sherlock murmured, attempting to sit up a bit taller so his back wouldn't be so stiff later.

"You know, wedding plans, John, you? How are you?"

"Nervous, worried we will have a natural disaster that will stop us from getting married, you know, all the normal things, other than that, I'm peachy." Sherlock shook his head and sighed. "Sorry. I've been working on my vows for John, and I can't get them right, page after page of superficial banalities, anyone could have written them, most people have spoken them. I want to tell him everything, and nothing sounds right."

Harry scrubbed at a bit of paint that always ended up on her cheek, she didn't know how it happened, it always did. "What do you want to say?"

"If I knew that - " Sherlock opened his eyes and caught her eye and she nodded. He sat up and stretched, then stood up, and began pacing. "I want him to know how much he means to me. He knows, but I want to tell him in a way that will make sure -"

"Make sure, what?" Harry muttered as she added more paint to her palette.

"Make sure he never leaves me." Sherlock whispered in a broken voice she had never heard before.

Harry swore as she dropped her brush on the tarp that was protecting the old carpeting. "Bloody hell!" She moved away from her easel and took off her smock. "Sherlock Holmes. Listen to me. No, look at me, down here. Yeah. Eyes on me." She checked her hands to make sure they were clean of paint before she reached up and touched him. "John isn't going anywhere. You are his life, the life he keeps choosing time after fucking time. I've never seen anyone more in love than the two of you idiots. Yes. You are both idiots. I love you both, but fer god's sake. All you have to do is look in his eyes and you must know how much - Sherlock, love, I promise you, my brother is not going to go anywhere without you, not ever. Now, sit down and close your eyes, love, and think happy thoughts, yeah?"

Sherlock kissed her on both cheeks and nodded, then hugged her tightly. "Thank you, I know I'm an idiot. I just, I just want this so much, and it's ridiculous that I should need this archaic form of ritual, but I need it, Harry. I don't know why exactly, but I need to put a ring on his finger, I need our love to be seen, and accepted, I want to wear his ring, I want to dance with him as his husband, and take him home and -"

"Yeah, I know, love. I do. Just be honest, even if it's awkward, when you get to that moment, you will probably forget what you had written down anyway, and you will make something up as you watch his eyes tear up. That's what happened when I married Clara. Go sit -"

Sherlock sat, resumed his pose in his chair, and waited for her to continue. She put her smock back on and picked up her brush

"I had spent weeks, hours, trying to get the words right, trying to get them perfect, and when I saw her standing in front of me, tears already in her eyes, I lost all train of any thought I'd ever had in my life. You don't know what that moment is like when you are about to give yourself, everything you are, every good thing, every single flaw to that one person who already knows you better than you know yourself. You think you know, but you don't. There, just right there, perfect, try not to move fer a sec. Yes. Good. You can breathe again." She smiled and mixed another colour. "I'm glad I don't have to paint your eyes, I don't have the faintest idea what colour to do them, every single time you open them, they are different. Breathe, there. You know, I can't really recall what I said to her, I will always remember what she said to me though. She said, 'Harry, love, I'm here, for you, because you are my light and my darkness, you are my joy and at times my own personal pit of despair, but know this, Harry Watson, I am here for it all, for everything because you are my heart and my hopes and all of my dreams. I love you so much, my necessary.'"

She looked up and saw tears running down Sherlock's face. "Shit, I'm sorry, Sherlock. Let's take a break, yeah?"

Sherlock opened his eyes and looked at her. "I'm okay, if you want to keep going, it's fine, really."

"Sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Thank you, Harry."

Harry nodded and cleared her throat. "So just tell him, Sherlock, tell him what is in your heart at that moment, and he will hear you."

 

Greg opened the door and found Mycroft waiting for him. "Love," he murmured as Mycroft pulled him into a kiss of such longing and sweetness that he nearly fell over. "I'm here, love." He caught his breath and was once again stunned by the look in his husband's eyes. "What? I don't even know what I did in my life to deserve you." Mycroft shook his head and began undressing him. "I only have forty-five min - oh, Myc, damnnnn, god, my sweet -." Mycroft kissed him once more then, took him by the hand and led him to their bedroom.

"I wanted to thank you, Gregory."

"So I gathered,' he mumbled as he looked up into Mycroft's darkened eyes.

"You reminded me of what I wanted to be once, what I can still become, because of you, because of your love. I don't know what else I will do, or become in the next stage of my life, but I know it is enough that I have been given this chance to love and be loved by you. It is enough, Gregory."

"Oh, damn." Gregory pulled him against his chest and took a deep breath, trying to control everything he was feeling.

"Let go, love, I have you. I'm here, it's okay, love." Mycroft kissed his chest and laid his head over Greg's heart, feeling as his husband wept the tears he had always hidden from him, always thinking he had to hold everything in, afraid that Myc would run if he understood the depth of his love for him. 

"Myc. Do you remember - ?"

Mycroft lifted his head and met Greg's eyes, "I remember everything, Gregory. I have never forgotten anything, I just had to bury it so I could get on with my life, but I remember every day we were together, every promise I made to you, every vow I broke, I am going to make it up to you, starting today. I am yours, Gregory Lestrade, and I hope you will forgive me, love."

Greg closed his eyes and pulled Mycroft closer to his chest once more. "You have never owed me anything, love. I've always known, I've never doubted your love for me, not even when we were apart. I knew. I don't know how, but I did, always." He caught his breath and managed to smile, "Now, please, will you -"

"Yes, my heart, yes."


	94. Chapter 94

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a slight bit of angst

1 June 2017

Sherlock - 

I have never been much of a religious person, never had much use for that kind of thing even before I went to Afghanistan, but I swear, when you opened your gorgeous eyes and smiled at me this morning, there was something different; perhaps it was the light, I don't know, you simply took my breath away and once again I wondered at your love for me. In less than two weeks, I get to take your hands in mine and in your beautiful chapel, I will be forever bound to you, my love, my better part. You once told me that I am your heart walking around out in the world, you are nothing less than my world, Sherlock. You are my best friend, my lover, and my conscience; you are simply everything that is good and true. I know you'll probably roll your eyes as you read this, but as I have traveled through this world, I've never met anyone more human, more beautiful than you. I love you in ways I don't think I will ever fully understand.

All of my love -

John

 

Sherlock sat at the kitchen table and reread the letter John had left him that morning one more time before he noticed that someone had opened the door. "Oh, Lizzie. Bits, sorry, I -"

"Lost track of time?" Lizzie grinned at him and searched his face for a moment. "Go shower and get dressed, lovely boy, we will go get our smashing dresses, then take you to lunch." She paused as she saw something in his face. "What is it, love?" Sherlock shoved John's note into her hand then disappeared into the bathroom.

Lizzie and Bits sat down on the couch and held the letter between them. Bits shook her head as she read, then reread it. "Oh, Lizzie."

Lizzie bit her lip and nodded. She cradled the paper in her hands and whispered, "I know, Bits. They are -" She fell silent, then felt Bits lean into her and wrap her arm around her waist. They sat in silence until Sherlock returned, showered, shaved and perfectly put together. 

"Ready - Lizzie? Bits? What?" He knelt in front of them and waited.

Bits recovered first and laid her hand on his cheek. "Just promise me, Sherlock, promise me, you won't - damn."

"Just tell me, Bits, please?" 

"I wrote Lizzie a letter almost identical to this one back then, back -" Bits lowered her head for a moment, then gathered herself together again. "She still - just don't let him go, Sherlock, hold onto him and always, always make sure he knows - damn, sorry." She cleared her throat, kissed Lizzie's cheek then stood up and slowly made her way to the bathroom.

"I still have the letter she sent me," Lizzie murmured. "It's in a box with the ring I had picked out for her. We couldn't marry, but I still wanted her to -"

Sherlock moved to the couch and held her in his arms. "How about we have a bit of lunch first and then you can model your smashing dresses for me, yeah?" 

Lizzie chuckled and leaned against him, the note still in her hands. "Put this somewhere safe, love. I know you already have it stored away in that remarkable brain of yours, but, words, words like these -" Sherlock nodded and took the paper, then carefully folded it away into his wallet.

Bits returned, her face neatly repaired. Sherlock squeezed Lizzie's shoulder and muttered about needing to find his mobile, then retreated to the bedroom. Bits took his place next to Lizzie and took her face gently into her trembling hands. "Look at me, love. We are alright. I just - they just remind me so much of us. You were right, love, all those years ago - it was excruciating and awful, and I missed you terribly, but back then, back then - "

 

I love you - S

I know you're probably busy, I just need to tell you, your letter, thank you - S

Lizzie and Bits are here, I'm taking them to the place near the clinic for lunch if you can meet us? - S

I miss you, I know it's ridiculous, but I miss you every time you walk out the door. - S

 

Sherlock pocketed his mobile, then pulled out his wallet again and removed the letter, tracing the words in John's unmistakable scrawl with a finger, though Lizzie had been right, he already had the words stored away, but the paper was tangible evidence of their love and he put it back in his wallet, took a deep breath and walked back into the front room. 

"Ready, ladies?"

 

They were chatting away about wedding preparations when John entered the restaurant, a bit lost until he spotted them in the corner. Sherlock looked up and John bit his lip. That light, that brilliance that he saw earlier in the day glittered at him, and Sherlock's smile nearly knocked him over. He stood up and walked over to John, and took his hand, then leaned against him. "I love you, John Watson," he whispered, then led him to the table, where Lizzie and Bits both stood and somehow managed to both hug him at once. John shot Sherlock a look, and Sherlock shook his head and mouthed, "later."

 

"Tell me," John murmured as he held Sherlock in his arms as they cuddled on the couch watching a bit of crap telly. "What happened today?"

Sherlock threaded their fingers together and kissed John's ring, then began. "They read your letter. I woke up late, and found it on your pillow, next to me. I spent the morning reading and rereading it, I had completely lost track of what day it was, forgotten that today they were in town for a couple of days to make sure the dresses were right, and suddenly they were standing there, they had knocked, but I hadn't heard. Mrs. H had to let them in. I handed it to them and went to get ready. When I came back in the room, they were sitting as if stunned. Turns out Bits had written to Lizzie right before they were to leave for London, and the words were quite similar, and then -"

"You know -"

Sherlock nodded.

John kissed his curls, and sighed. "There is nothing you can say or do that will make me turn away from you, nothing. Not ever. I'm afraid, my love, you are quite stuck with me, 'from this day -'"

"'Until the ending of the world?'"* Sherlock snorted and rolled over so he could look into John's smiling face. "Only you could find a way to woo with that speech, John." He snogged him gently but soundly, then got up and offered John his hand, and without another word, led him to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * from the St. Crispin's Day speech, Henry V, Act IV, scene III


	95. Chapter 95

Harry sighed at the watercolour in front of her, ran her fingers through her spiky blonde hair, then mumbled at the door. "Just one more minute, Mycroft. Don't move, Lizzie." She added one more bit of colour to the painting then nodded."There. Okay, Myc." She dropped her paintbrush in the water and smiled at the ladies in front of her. "Thank you, so much, I know they will love it." She took off her smock, draped it over a chair and winked at Mycroft as he leaned against the doorway. "Ready for tonight?"

Mycroft walked through the door and turned to find Lizzie and Bits grinning at him expectantly from the couch. "I can't believe I'm going through with this," he groaned, then collapsed next to his aunt. She wrapped her arm around him, squeezed his shoulder and kissed his cheek.

"Myc, you have dealt with how many dictators and PMs? How many wars have you stopped singlehanded? This is a poetry reading for -"

"Gregory. I don't mind the other - " He waved his hand impatiently as he tried to come up with a suitable word. "Riffraff who will be in attendance. This is the first time I've done this -"

Lizzie shook her head and pressed a finger to his lips."Don't even say how many years it's been -" Bits laughed next to her and rolled her eyes at Harry, who smothered a smile of her own.

"I was going to say, 'since he left for Boston,' but it comes down to the same thing, I suppose," then he went silent and looked down at his hands. Bits got up to look at the painting Harry was glaring at. She blinked at it, then laid a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Lovely, Harry, I don't know how you do it, my dear, but that's her, that's us." She glanced over at Myc and Lizzie and cleared her throat. "Let's go get some take-away for Myc's big night, yeah?" Harry nodded and after a moment, the street door was heard closing behind them.

"What's going on, Myc?" Lizzie reached for his hand and held it in hers.

"I'm," Mycroft rolled his eyes as he mumbled, "actually nervous, no, petrified is the word, Liz. I haven't shown him any of it, I've been writing nonstop, while he's at work, I'm just not sure -"

"That it's not absolute rubbish?"

He nodded, leaned into her and closed his eyes.

"Do you remember all those times when you were terrified to try something new as a child?" He nodded against her shoulder and she went on. "Riding your bike, or the first time you ice skated, I think you weren't so worried about falling so much, it was more that you thought we expected you to be perfect every time you tried something new? You have loved Gregory for so long, but you are still learning how to do it; you think it's like finding the perfect word, or phrase, it's not, my dear. It's nothing like that, at all. You feel as if you are on the high wire without a net, but you aren't. He is there, love, he will catch you if you stumble."

 

Harry and Bits walked past the local where Mycroft would be performing in a few hours and Bits turned to look at Harry. "Is this going to be okay for you tonight?"

"You sure yer not a Holmes?" Harry narrowed her eyes at her, then grinned and shook her head. "It's been almost three years now. I don't miss it. I was fortunately, or unfortunately, depends how you look at it, I suppose, one of those drunks who remembered every awful thing they ever did or said while 'under the influence.' When I finally stopped, it was cold turkey. At first, I did it for Clara, because it was her line in the sand, I knew if I crossed it one more time, she'd be gone. We have been together a long time, Bits, we were still teenagers when we started living together. At first, I thought she was simply wanting to live rough, she comes from money, her parents were a mess too - but they had money to hold everything together, they always traveled, leaving her with the staff. She was on her own so young, and by the time I met her, she was essentially running the household, she was the adult in her family. I was busking, selling my drawings, mostly portraits, had left home as early as I could, I was seventeen. I was working one day, when this beautiful redhead drops into the chair in front of me, she was -" Harry stopped and bit her lip. "I've never told anyone all this before." She glanced at Bits, then spotted a bench. "Mind if we sit?"

"Not at all." They sat and Harry closed her eyes, Bits examined the younger woman's strong attractive features, so like John, and wondered at their strength to be the people they had become.

"She was - still is, an extraordinarily beautiful woman, back then she kept her hair down, she had never done any of those crazy things with her hair, it was like copper - damn, sorry. I sketched her once, and she paid me twice what I asked. She came back the next day, and the day after that...until a week had passed, she never spoke, just sat and I could tell, I just knew that sitting for me was like therapy, if that makes sense?" Bits nodded, and Harry went on. "On that seventh day, she gave me her phone number. 'Will you call me?' I nodded without saying a word, and she smiled at me, I mean, damn, Bits, her smile could have lit up London for a couple of days, and bam, that was it for me. She's the only person I've ever loved, and my drinking almost drove her away. So, no, Bits, tonight won't be a problem for me." She looked over at her and murmured, "You should ask her."

Bits snorted and put her hand in her pocket. "Now who is acting all Holmesian?" She pulled her hand out and she was holding a dark blue velvet box. "Tell me what you think, I had bought it back - back then -" Harry opened the box carefully and let out a sigh. "It was old back then, now it's practically -"

"It's gorgeous, Bits." 

"I'm afraid to make it mean something, Harry. I've been married once, and I did it because I had to, and it nearly broke me. I was going to give it to her for her birthday, just a gift, nothing more. I don't want to mess up what we have, which is simply a -"

"Miracle?" Harry asked gently, as she closed the box and handed it back to Bits.

Bits tucked the box back in her pocket and nodded. "Nothing short of a miracle, Harry. There are moments when I'm afraid to leave the room, or blink or be apart from her for any length of time, it's like we're in a bubble, and I'm afraid to pop it. But -"

"But?" Harry grinned at her and Bits shrugged.

"But, there's always a but, isn't there? I would love to stand up with her and tell her, even if it's just in front of you, you know, her family, tell her what she means to me." She saw the unasked question in Harry's eyes. "Everything, Harry, simply everything," she whispered. "You saw that, that's what you painted." She kissed Harry's forehead and nodded. "Thank you, Harry."

"Fish and chips?" Harry suggested, as an impish grin lit up her face.

"Perfect!" Bits laughed and they got up from the bench. "Poor Myc."

 

Sherlock and John pushed open the door to the flat and took a breath. "Damn." John sighed, as he found Clara sitting on the couch, holding Harry as she slept, while Bits and Lizzie were washing up. "Any left for us?"

Bits laughed. "When Myc saw what we had brought back, his jaw dropped, and he mumbled something about going home and making a salad, never seen anyone move that fast in my life. I don't blame him in the least - yes, there is plenty left over, help yourselves. Myc's not on til eleven tonight you boys might want to grab a nap." She laughed again. "I forgot, you boys are still young, why don't you finish this up when you're done, and Lizzie and I will grab a couple of hours?"

John went over and hugged them both, and they started to go up to the guest room where they had been staying the last couple of nights. 

Bits kissed his cheek and murmured, "Your sister, she's quite remarkable."

John looked over at her on the couch and nodded. "Yeah, Bits, she is."


	96. Chapter 96

Mycroft was about to step into the bath when Greg arrived home. He quickly undressed then slid into the tub, pulling Mycroft with him.

"Damn, I missed you today." Mycroft sighed as Greg began kissing his neck, then worked his way lower.

"I, uhm...oh...mmmm..."

"Yeah?"

"I missed you, as well."

Greg nuzzled his neck and let out a sigh. "You know, you don't have to do this tonight."

"This?" Mycroft whispered, unsure of what Greg was referring to for a moment, then - "Oh, you mean the poetry slam? No, I've, I've actually been writing like mad. And since everyone is here -"

"Everyone?"

Mycroft turned and faced his husband. "Well, Lizzie and Bits are in town, and so are Harry and Clara, I figured, I'd have a bit of an audience that may actually listen."

"You really want to do this?"

"Yes."

"You don't have to do this for me -"

Mycroft shook his head and kissed Greg deliberately and sweetly, then leaned against him. "I'm not just doing it for you, Gregory. I'm doing it for me, for us, because a lifetime ago, a certain fiddle player with brilliant blue eyes sat in a smoky coffeehouse, blew a smoke ring in my direction and stole my heart, a heart I didn't know I possessed. Plus, I want to see how I stack up against these young people-"

Greg howled with laughter as Mycroft's eyes lit up with a fierceness he hadn't seen for decades.

"What? I just want to see what the competition is like today."

"God - I love you, you mad beautiful poet."

"We'll soon find out."

"What time do we need to be there?"

"Not til 10:30."

"10:30? Isn't that past -"

"Don't say it -"

"Your usual bedtime these days?"

Mycroft pouted, then raised an eyebrow, and found that one particular spot that made Greg's eyes roll back into his head.

"Damn."

"I'm going to drain the tub, and if you think you can stay awake, Detective Inspector, I have an idea or two about how we could spend the next few hours, but only if you think you can manage it, I don't want to tax your energy, after all, you do have to be at work bright and early tomo-"

Greg stopped Mycroft's words with his mouth, and sent a shudder through both of them.

"I'm so proud of you, you know that?"

"I - god, I love you, Gregory. I hope by the end of tonight, you'll know how much."


	97. Chapter 97

Mycroft leaned against the wall and closed his eyes as he listened to yet another rant against the government; some of it fair, of course, but it was the first time he was considering his old world as a civilian and he suddenly realized how often he had looked away -

"...and now, our last poet of the evening, a newcomer to our stage, please welcome Myc to the Mic!"

He heard a bark of laughter, Harry, he thought; a shrill whistle - Sherlock, and a hoot, Gregory, as if he were cheering on his football team. There was more applause than he expected and as he climbed onto the small stage and turned to face his first audience in nearly thirty years, his breath caught for a split second as he recognized the crowd was full of Yarders. He suddenly wished for a cigarette to hold onto, but somehow he managed to grab the microphone instead, as he found Greg leaning against the back wall, a pint in his hand, his smiling eyes focused on him, only him. He nodded and began.

"So lovely to see so many friends out there, and in case you were wondering, I'm not up here because I lost a bet with my husband." Greg nearly choked on his ale and the audience erupted in laughter. When they settled again, Myc found Greg's eyes once more and winked at him, "Though he is the reason I stand before you tonight. This piece is entitled, 'A Simple Act.' "

 

"Love is simple," he said,  
exhausted eyes closed then opened again.  
"Life is hard at times, even breathing -"

Mycroft watched Greg's face change ever so slightly and he went on:

"even breathing can become compromised,  
but love? The love that survives all disasters  
both natural  
and manmade -  
even death, inevitable as it is -

He saw John cover Sherlock's hand with his own and squeeze it gently.

love strong enough to weather the pain of absence,  
quiet stubborn patience somehow outlasting the bitterness?  
That kind of love,  
our rare type of love,  
a passion beyond fairy tales  
and every tragic aria,  
our love is simple  
a conscious, deliberate choice  
I made the first time -  
the very first time  
our eyes met,  
a simple, rebellious act of love."

No one moved or made a sound until Lizzie pushed away from the table, stood up slowly and walked up to the stage. Mycroft helped her up and she kissed his cheek and nodded at him, then took his place at the microphone. "It's not a setting I ever considered, but, now is as good time as any. I'm sorry for stealing your spotlight, Myc, dear, but -" Mycroft wrapped his arm around her and held her as he felt her shake. "Bits, my love, this is what I should have done long ago, if the world had been different, then; will you marry me?"

The room erupted again for a brief moment, then was silent as Bits carefully rose from her seat and made her way towards Lizzie. Sherlock bit his lip and watched Lizzie take Bits' hand. Bits nodded at her and kissed her hand, then helped her down from the stage. They walked arm in arm until they made it outside, and hailed a cab back to Baker Street.

The bartender cleared his throat as he finally got control of the microphone again. "I think we all know who won here tonight, ladies and gents. Myc, you win first prize tonight." The crowd, stood as one and Mycroft bowed to them, as he was given an envelope with one hundred pounds in it. Mycroft snorted, recalling what one hundred pounds would have meant to him and Greg back -

"The next round's on me," Mycroft smiled into the microphone and once again, the room roared back to life.

Mycroft pushed through the crowd until he found Greg still leaning against the wall. Their eyes met and Greg whispered, "Damn, love. I -"

"Take me home?" Mycroft leaned forward and captured Greg's face with his hands. "Take me home, love."

Greg nodded and murmured, "Yeah, it's not every night I get to take home a gorgeous, brilliant poet."

"Aren't you afraid your husband will get jealous?" Mycroft grinned as he kissed him gently.

"I think he might be okay with it."

"Oh, really?"

"Uhmhmmm..."

"Home?"

"Home."


	98. Chapter 98

There were times when Mycroft missed the black sedans that were no longer at his beck and call, however, tonight was not one of those nights. They left the pub and began the long walk home, Greg's fingers tightly wrapped around his, their strides nearly identical, and Mycroft leaned slightly against Greg's shoulder. Suddenly, they came to a halt, as Greg was standing outside the doorway of a tattoo parlor.

Greg pulled Mycroft towards the open door, the neon signs buzzing brightly.

"Wha -" 

"I want your words on me."

"You can't be -"

Greg turned and kissed him, then pulled back and gazed into his eyes, and after a moment whispered roughly, "I want your love etched onto my skin, I want you to see your words every time we make love." He looked down at his feet and muttered, "And to be honest, I need you to be there to hold my hand, I hate needles."

Mycroft laughed and touched Greg's cheek lifting his face so he could kiss him gently. "God, I love you, Gregory. Come on, let's do this before we both come to our senses."

 

John played with Sherlock's curls as they cuddled on the couch. "You've been so quiet tonight, can I help?"

Sherlock shook his head, then brought their entwined fingers to his lips and sighed. "Just thinking. How brave they were tonight - Myc - I saw his face as he saw all of Greg's co-workers there, and he went on, he did it for Greg, I watched him, he didn't take his eyes off of him, no notes, not even memorized really, he made it seem as if he had written on the spot, but I know him - he would have taken hours to write that out - but then again -" Sherlock shrugged. "Maybe I don't know him all that well. And Lizzie - I had no idea she was going to do that, I wonder if she did, I think it was a completely spontaneous act. I wish I could have seen Bits' face when Lizzie asked her -" Sherlock narrowed his eyes as John smiled at him, then kissed him lightly. "What was that for?"

"Just love you, is all."

Sherlock blinked at him, then nodded. "It is everything, John."

 

Mycroft wrote out the last line of the poem and handed the paper to the tattoo artist, then looked at Greg's tense face, eyes clamped tight, hands in fists, as he lay on the table. He stroked his husband's hair and whispered into his ear, "you don't have to do this. It's a lovely gesture, but, you don't -" Greg's eyes popped open and he shook his head. 

"I want this, Myc. I watched you tonight, you had lost whatever it was you had in your head when you saw that crowd of coppers in the front tables, you could have walked off the stage, and I wouldn't have blamed you, but instead, you kept your eyes on me, and you -" He closed his eyes as he heard the whirr of the needle.

Mycroft sat in the chair next to him, and took his hand. "I froze, and then I found you, leaning against the wall, pint in your hand, and you smiled at me, and I took a breath, and it was there, in you, in Sherlock and John, Liz and Bits, Harry and Clara - it was there, Gregory, for you. Keep your eyes closed, hold onto my hand, love. Breathe."

"What -" they both flinched as the artist began to work. Greg closed his eyes tighter then opened them, and blew out a sharp breath, "what were you - damn -"

Mycroft stroked Greg's hair until he closed his eyes again. "What was I going to read originally?"

"Mmmhmmm." Greg bit his lip and nodded.

"Honestly, I can't remember now."

Greg opened his eyes again and a smile touched his lips briefly. "How - how the hell did you do this, Myc?" he mumbled under his breath.

"I had a shot of tequila in me," Mycroft whispered. "No, don't laugh, shh. I'm here, love." He looked over at the words slowly emerging over Greg's left hip,"he's almost done, just a couple more words. Hold on to my hand. Do you know what I was thinking about tonight?"

Greg muttered, "How sexy I looked across the room?" His breath checked again and his eyes fluttered shut.

"Yes, that too, love." Mycroft smiled and touched his Greg's face gently. "But, I was thinking of our wedding day. I was so nervous and you were so calm, so beautiful as you stood in front of me and you smiled at me, you smiled and I could breathe, Gregory." He kissed him gently and whispered, "He's finished, love."

 

Lizzie glanced down at the ring on her finger, as she stood at the window drinking her tea. Her habit of early morning tea never altered, no matter where she was, it seemed.

Sherlock stopped in the doorway, then walked over to her quietly and wrapped his arms around her.

"Why does it matter?" she wondered aloud.

He looked down at the dog tags he hadn't taken off since John had given them to him. "I don't know," he whispered. "It does, though, it makes a difference somehow, a part of him is with me, even if we aren't together. It says I am loved, someone loves me enough to show the world that I am loved. I know he loves me, I always know, but to wear his tags, to feel them bounce over my heart as I walk, I am reminded - "

Lizzie turned in his arms. "I hadn't planned it. I hadn't meant to upstage Myc, like that, Sherlock, it, he, his words spoke to me - I know it's corny, but he, it was as if he was speaking to me, it felt like he was giving me permission to risk everything -"

"I know, Lizzie, I think he was - damn, here come the rains." And sure enough the skies opened up. He kissed the top of her head and whispered, "I don't know about you, but I am going back to bed til at least noon."

She laughed and touched his face. "I love you, sweet boy."

"I love you." He grinned at her, then turned and tiptoed back to his room.

Lizzie looked down at her hand again and thought back a few hours.

 

They had climbed the stairs to the flat in silence. Neither had spoken a word since they had left the pub. She opened the door with the spare key Sherlock had given her and entered the flat, then turned to face Bits. "I'm sorry - I shouldn't have -"

Bits shook her head and knelt in front of her. 

"What are you doing, Annabeth Morgan?" Lizzie whispered. "Your knees."

"Elizabeth Holmes. My knees are fine, will be fine. Hush, now." She put her hand into her pocket and drew out the box she had shown Harry a few hours earlier. "Elizabeth, my Lizzie, will you, please, marry me? I should have done so long ago. I should have - I should have fought for you, instead of letting you send me away. I should have found a way, Lizzie. I didn't know if you even wanted, I was afraid of ruining what we have now, but tonight, I saw your courage, you just didn't care what other people thought, I've been married before, but it wasn't - it wasn't what a marriage should have been - damn it, I'm doing this all wrong. Lizzie, please will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

Lizzie slowly got to her knees in front of Bits and accepted the box from her. Her hands shook as she opened it and she bit her lip. "Bits - oh, Bits, it's beautiful. Will you put it on me, please?"

Bits nodded and took the box from her and slid the ring on her finger. She brought Lizzie's hand to her mouth and kissed it carefully. "I am so sorr-"

"No. Bits, please. Please? You have no idea what having you in my life again means to me -" She looked into Bits' eyes and shook her head. "No, I'm wrong, you do. I just thought I'd never know - what it is to be loved, to feel loved for who I am, just as I am. Every day I wake up next to you is -"

"A miracle." Bits whispered. "It will also be a miracle if we can get up off this floor without a crane."

Lizzie laughed and found she couldn't stop laughing. Bits wrapped her arms around her and they sat there together until Sherlock and John got home ten minutes later. 

"Ladies?" John raised an eyebrow and grinned at them.

"I think we need a bit of help getting up." Bits murmured. "Knees aren't what they used to be."

 

Mycroft held Greg in his arms as he was drifting off to sleep, and he remembered what he was originally going to perform that evening. And he realized it didn't matter. There would be other nights, other poetry readings, but on this night, at this moment, he was exactly where he was meant to be with the man he was always meant to love.

"Thinking thinky thoughts, Myc?' Greg murmured against his chest.

"No, just thinking how bloody lucky I am."

"Mmmm. Good. Sleep, love." Greg kissed his chest and was soon fast asleep.

Mycroft sighed and kissed Greg's silver hair. "Good night, my love."


	99. Chapter 99

"How do you feel?"

Greg shifted against him and mumbled, "Still sore. Do something for me?"

"Anything."

"Read to me, your new stuff, I know you've been writing like a madman, just read to me?"

"Of course." Mycroft kissed his sleep spiked hair and reached over to the bedside table where he kept the journal.

 

"It is raining...of course it is raining..."

 

Harry was sitting cross-legged in the chair next to the bed, sketchpad in her lap. She bit her lip as she watched Clara begin to stir. 

"No. Don't move, Clara, just stay like that for a minute, please? Do you remember, the day we met, the day you found me? I was telling Bits about you yesterday, well, about us, really." She reworked a line then laid the pencil and pad on the table. "This morning I realized I hadn't drawn you in years. I don't know why. Do you know -"

Clara opened her eyes and smiled at her.

"God - still the same smile, except you are more beautiful now than you were that very first time -"

"Come here, Harry."

 

"your pillow recalls the scent of you, of us, as we were early this morning -"

 

Sherlock gazed up into John's sparkling eyes, they were both so close; John bent closer, brushing his lips lightly over his own and he was lost. "John. Johhhn." 

John hummed against his chest, and placed a single kiss over his heart, then rolled them so he could look into Sherlock's eyes. He brushed damp curls from Sherlock's forehead and shook his head as Sherlock tried to speak, laying a finger over his lips. "You are so beautiful. No, you are, especially right now, the way your eyes - damn." He laid his hand against Sherlock's jaw and his breath caught. "So solid, so real, you -" Sherlock smiled and pulled him close against him. "Already? Again?"

Sherlock sighed, then whispered, "you seem to have cast a spell over me this morning - no, that's not true, you did that long ago." 

 

"our lost yesterdays, our tomorrows yet to be -"

 

Bits watched Lizzie blink awake, she rarely got to see the phenomenon as Lizzie was usually up and moving, long before Bits' own natural clock shook her to consciousness. But today, there was no gardening, no dusting the non-existent dust away, from ancient, spotless corners; just them together. "The boys went out an hour ago -"

"In this rain?" Lizzie nodded at the water streaming down the windows.

"Sherlock said, 'Isn't that what umbrellas are for?' They promised us a brilliant brunch later. For now it's just us."

Lizzie raised an eyebrow and snuggled closer into Bits' arms. Bits closed her eyes and ran her fingertips over Lizzie's back, coming to rest on her slender hips. "I dreamed so long of mornings like this, Lizzie, but the reality -"

"the reality is so much more," Lizzie mumbled. "So much more, love."

 

"My heart -"

Greg rolled carefully onto his right side, gently took the journal from Mycroft's hand and laid it aside. "Your heart, Mycroft," Greg laid his hand over Mycroft's heaving chest, and kissed him. "Your heart is safe with me, your words -"

"Are yours, always have been."

Greg bit his lip and nodded. "I know, love. It's raining cats and dogs out there, I'm not on until tomorrow, whatever shall we do?"

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at him and grinned, "Clue-do?"

"Arse."

"Uhmmhmmm..."


	100. Chapter 100

7 June 2017

John - 

In a few hours we head back to Sussex, for a week of craziness; when we return you will be my husband, and I will be yours. Will it change us, as we are now? Honestly, I don't know, I can't imagine I will love you more than I already do at this moment, as I watch you sleep next to me, your arm draped over my hip, a slight smile on your lips, which seems to be a permanent fixture as of late, not sure when that happened. But, then I didn't think I could love you more than I did last week, last month - my love for you, unwavering as it is, seems to grow at an alarming rate, not sure what will happen when you actually slide your ring on my finger, making me yours, officially, legally yours. I may simply implode or explode, or perhaps just forget to breathe for a moment, and you will smile and kindly remind me to take a breath before you kiss me. I wonder, I do, what that first kiss will be like; will you press your lips to mine, chastely, sweetly shy? Or will you, my love, my John, give the village something to gossip about over their elevenses for the years to come? So much I want to tell you, though you know, you already know, how much you govern my heart, my very existence, but it is almost time to pack, as daylight is finally breaking through the clouds, and I need the loo and tea. Perhaps even some toast, but not sure I can eat today, the butterflies are already fluttering even as the sun is making its appearance. My heart is yours, my love, my John.

-S.

 

7 June 2017

Sherlock -

Your letter of this morning will be with me as I stand with you in a few short days, when we claim one another, in front of a village, yes, but also for our families. You will never quite know what it means to me to be able to say 'our families,' Sherlock. I spent most of my life alone, so painfully alone, until the day we met. I didn't know what you would mean to my life, all I knew for certain after you left the lab, was that I was no longer the same person. And I'm sure when we walk back through those ancient chapel doors, hand in hand, as husbands, we will both be changed once again. You have given me so much, my love, you have, you restored my hope, that somehow, I would find someone who would love me in spite of everything, and that my love would be welcomed in return. I never believed I would be found worthy enough to deserve the kind of gentle passion that you bestow upon me every day. I have to make this brief as you are in the kitchen chattering with Ollie, and you could return at any moment. I wonder, would you like it if I were to kiss you in a way that would make the front page of the Sussex paper, make Sebastian green with envy? Or should I keep my kiss short and sweet - tell me, my love, my heart.

Yours,  
John


	101. Chapter 101

"Good morning, Sylvia, I hope you rested well?" Lizzie smiled gently at her. "Can I get you a cup of tea?"

"Please, yes. I haven't slept so well in ages." Sylvia sat down, and thanked Lizzie quietly. Lizzie nodded and raised an eyebrow expectantly as she sat across from her. "You must have questions - how I -"

Lizzie shook her head. "No. I have no right to judge, Sylvia." She gazed down into her teacup and went on. "I have known John only a short time - wait. Let me start again. When Sherlock brought him here for the first time a couple of months ago, I hadn't seen my nephew in over twenty years. He came back, Sylvia, because he was ready, they were ready to marry, he came back because he was in love, and knew he was loved. No matter what else happened to John in his life, no matter what you may feel guilt over, your son loves my nephew and knows he is loved in return. I knew nothing else about John when I met him, and it was all I needed to know, Sylvia. It still is. From what I know of him, he would not have asked you here for the wedding, for the week if he did not want you here. I have spent time with both of your children, Sylvia, and they are nothing short of remarkable; you have some part of that, you gave them something that could not be broken, no matter how roughly life treated them. I have spent too many years living in the past, thinking of how I could have done things differently to question anything that happened in John and Harry's lives. This week is about celebrating Sherlock and John, as the men they have both become, not dwelling on what could have been. I have the feeling if their lives had been any different, they wouldn't be who they are today."

Sylvia looked up from her cup and saw the truth of her words in Lizzie's face.

Ollie entered then, blinking against the kitchen lights. "Another early bird, oy! Mrs. Watson -"

"Sylvia, please?"

Ollie looked her over for a moment, then nodded. "Sylvia. How do you like your first breakfast, just toast or something a bit more? I'll be doing the full English in a couple of hours."

Sylvia grinned and looked up to see Ollie smiling back at her. "Just toast, please?"

"Toast for two, then."

 

Clara slowly woke up to the scent of bacon and nudged Harry. "Harry - wake up, wake up, sweet, I smell -"

"Bacon - oh, god - remember, we still have to fit into those dresses." Harry grumbled and tried to roll over and go back to sleep.

"Nope, get up, you, it's a beautiful day, you promised me a walk -"

Harry pushed up on an elbow and gazed down at her wife. 

"What?" Clara whispered.

Harry bent down and kissed her lightly, then nuzzled her neck. "Good morning, love."

"Oh. Harry. Hmmm. I guess breakfast could wait a little while longer."

Harry snorted, then pulled back a bit and shook her head. "No, let's go eat, then we can come back after and -"

"Work off all that bacon?" Clara giggled.

"Exactly. Great minds -"

 

John stretched and squinted at the clock next to the bed. "Damn."

"Hmmmppph?" Sherlock mumbled against his chest. 

"I think we missed breakfast."

"I'm sure there will be tons left, Ollie always cooks like a woman possessed when she has a houseful, and it's been years since -"

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock and held him tightly until both of their stomachs growled.

"Damn transport," Sherlock groused, then moved until he could look into John's eyes. "Morning, John."

"Morning, love." 

 

As they wandered into the kitchen ten minutes later, they were greeted by shrieks of laughter. John turned and shrugged at Sherlock, "We're badly outnumbered, love, six to two, when are Myc and Greg arriving?"

"Not til Wednesday, earliest Greg could get time off; it's gonna be a long week," Sherlock sighed, then grabbed John's hand. "Once more unto the breach?"*

"Right beside you, love."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Henry V. Act III, scene I


	102. Chapter 102

They had finished up the dinner dishes and Mycroft was sitting outside, eyes closed, legs outstretched, on the edge of sleep, when he heard the first notes come from the kitchen, the music grew louder as it moved closer and he opened one eye, then the other to see Greg standing in front of him, playing his violin. 

His eyes were closed, lips gently parted, narrow hips swaying, all of the tension in his body resided in his strong shoulders, arms and fingers. He finished with a flourish, then opened his eyes and smiled softly at Mycroft.

"It's beautiful, love, not nearly as beautiful as you are, however." 

Greg bit his lip and whispered, "Flattery will get you everything -"

Mycroft stood and took the bow and violin carefully from Greg's fingers then kissed his forehead, then one cheek, then the other, before barely grazing his lips with his own. "Everything?"

"Mmmm..."

"Inside?"

"Uhmhmm, please?"

 

"Remind me again why I got this tattoo again, Myc?" Greg winced as he rolled over and glared at Mycroft as he smiled at him. 

"Because it was a grandly romantic gesture, and you, my love, are a grandly romantic idiot." Mycroft kissed him sweetly and was forgiven after a long moment.

In an attempt to change the subject and get his mind off the remaining soreness in his hip, Greg mumbled, "How are the boys surviving the house full of ladies?"

"Hmm, they have found numerous excuses to visit the village, some have been valid, others not so much."

Greg raised a curious eyebrow and Mycroft sighed. "Three trips to the barber, a different sojourn to check on programs, that had been already printed two weeks ago here in London, a few offers to go to the shops, they only got away with that the once..."

"So our appearance tomorrow should be quite welcome, then?"

"Indeed."

"Well, then, I suppose we should get some sleep if we are going to leave bright and early, hmm?" Greg's voice had lowered into the register which meant sleep was not on his agenda quite yet.

"I suppose sleep at some point would be a good idea...or...damn....perhaps in a...Gregory...how do you..."

 

"Aren't they here yet?" Sherlock paced in the driveway and looked at his watch again.

"Greg said that they left a bit later than they had planned -" John smirked as he put his phone away and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I really don't need to know -" Sherlock growled impatiently.

"Love. Stop. Look at me, it's going to be fine. Sherlock." John placed himself directly in Sherlock's path, then laid a gentle hand on Sherlock's chest and met his bright, flashing eyes. "It's going to be fine."

Sherlock lowered his head and nodded, took a slow breath in, then let it go. "I just don't want anything to stop me, you, us, from getting married."

"Listen to me, Sherlock Holmes. There is nothing anyone can do to stop us from getting married on Sunday. I. am. marrying. you. on. Sunday. With or without best men, with or without fancy suits or flowers or cake, well, actually, I do really want that cake after all those tastings -"

Sherlock's eyes finally crinkled and he laughed out loud for the first time in days. "Shit. Have I really been this awful?"

John shook his head, then nodded with a slight smile. "They understand. You've been planning for this -"

"Since the day I met you. Since forever."

"That's a very long time, love." John moved closer and leaned against Sherlock's chest, sighing as he felt Sherlock's arms drape around him, then pull him closer.

"I wish. I wish I had known you -" Sherlock mumbled into John's hair.

"What, love?"

"I wish we had met back -" Sherlock stopped as John pulled away from him and shook his head gently.

"We weren't ready then, we're ready now, Sherlock. I know, there are times when I wonder what my life would have been like if I had known you when we were kids, if we could have -"

"I would have, you know -" Sherlock kissed John's forehead and held him tightly again. "I would have stopped it."

John snorted and closed his eyes. "I know you would have died trying, love. I know. Ah, there they are now." He turned to see Greg's car rumble up the long driveway.

"About damn time." Sherlock groused.

"We'll probably have to go through the photo albums again tonight..."

"Hell." Sherlock closed his eyes and groaned.

"I'll be right there at your side, love." John leaned back into Sherlock's arms and shivered as Sherlock kissed his neck. "Later, love, later..."


	103. Chapter 103

"So - how are things now that he's home all the time?" John asked Greg as they walked around the grounds; Billy and a temporary crew of village teens were sprucing up the gardens before the 'big do' as it was being called by everyone, everyone but Sherlock who rolled his eyes and growled every time he heard the phrase.

"It's good." Greg looked down at his feet, then glanced up again, his face slightly flushed. "No, it's better than that, it's bloody brilliant. I don't just mean -"

"Yeah, I know -" John snorted.

"He's, I mean, I think he's actually happy. Like back when we first met - except I know, I know for sure he's not going anywhere, most nights, he cooks or I grill, and he reads to me, I play for him, or we just sit in the same room, don't even have to be together - know what I mean?"

John nods, and waits for him to go on.

"He's different than I thought he'd be, I honestly thought he'd be bored..." Greg sat down on one of the ancient lichen covered benches and John joined him.

"But?"

Greg turned and John caught a glimpse of something more than contentment in his eyes, but he wasn't sure what else to call it.

"But, it seems, finally, that I'm enough for him, No, that's not it exactly, he's writing, and doing odd jobs around the house - yes, I know, it was so strange at first, I thought it was that he was trying too hard - but he honestly likes doing stuff like that, and he's actually brilliant at it, all of it, yes, that word again, but I'm not sure there's a better word."

He went silent for a moment. Then he shrugged. "I keep waiting -"

"You said yourself -"

"I know, but, surely, even though you know Sherlock is home for good - damn. I'm sorry. The fear - I still - I'm just still astonished he's there when I open my eyes, and he was never - shit. You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do know what you mean, Greg. I think it's just part of it, you know? It's the small price for loving the people we love." He nodded at the figures of Sherlock and Mycroft in the distance. "A very small price -"

 

Mycroft knelt in front of the gravestone and cleared a bit of mud from their father's name.

"No, I haven't written them yet." Sherlock was standing behind him, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

"Wasn't going to say anything."

"I'll know what to say when I see him. I just have planned every detail, fussed over colours and serviettes and all the damn cake and - I realized I won't know what I want to say until I am standing there in front of him, when I probably won't even remember my name or where I am, but he will know whatever I say then is what I -"

Mycroft groaned as he stood up to his full height and turned to face his brother.

"I tried writing it out - what I wanted to say to Gregory that day, each version read like a damned greeting card, and not one of the funny ones."

Sherlock laughed. "Glad I'm not the only one, it's impossible - to write it down and not make it look sappy, or complete gibberish."

"I think love is generally like that, it makes sense only when you don't think about it overly much. Just let it be what it is. I think we try to box it up too neatly, give it names and labels and I'm realizing it only makes love feel smaller - what?"

"My brother waxing poetic - didn't have any idea until your reading - you made that up on the spot, didn't you?"

Mycroft nodded. "I have to admit, seeing that horde of Yarders nearly did me in, but I saw Greg, and I knew he knew that whatever had been in my head was gone, and he just smiled at me, and he believed in me, and that was enough. I didn't have to think about it, it just came out - god, it's beautiful today. I sometimes forget how much I love this place -" He stopped and narrowed his eyes at Sherlock for a moment then his face relaxed and he nodded. "You will be fine, Sherlock, just show up and tell him, and you will both be fine."

"Thanks, Myc. No. I mean it. Thank you." Sherlock took a step forward and tentatively embraced his brother. "I love you, you know."

"Hmmm. I do know, Sherlock. I love you, too." Mycroft wrapped his arms around Sherlock and held him tightly for a moment, then blew out a breath. "Always have, you know."

"Yeah, I know." He cleared his throat and stepped back. "I think Ollie said there would be a Victoria Sponge for elevenses..."

"Are you going to be able to fit into your wedding clothes -"

Sherlock shot him a look, then grinned. "If I can't, then I'll wear my sweats and I won't care -"

"You are in love, aren't you, brother mine?"

"Yes, Myc - race to the house?" Sherlock laughed as he sped off.

"Wanker!" Mycroft hollered as he gave chase.


	104. Chapter 104

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a short bit...yes, more Shakespeare :)

Mycroft groaned as he saw his family sitting in the surprisingly comfortable library, waiting expectantly for him; John and Sherlock on one love seat, Sherlock already curled up in John's lap, eyes closed, feigning sleep as if he could avoid the coming embarrassment; Harry and Clara sat on one side of the couch next to Bits and Lizzie, while Sylvia sat in one of the enormous leather chairs, sipping at her evening coffee. Greg was sitting at Bits' left side, his eyes crinkling in amusement at him. He patted the space next to him, and Mycroft knew he was in for it.

"According to Lizzie, these are books even I haven't seen yet." Mycroft collapsed on the couch and leaned into Greg's shoulder.

Sherlock's eyes popped open then and he struggled to sit up, "Lizzie -" he began, then closed his mouth again as Lizzie raised an eyebrow at him. He blew out a breath and whispered, "Carry on," before closing his eyes and sighing as John laid his hand in his curls.

"I know everyone here wonders where my nephews acquired their, hmm, shall we say, their flair for the dramatic?" There was a surge of laughter and much silent eye rolling, and she continued. "Rosie, my sister-in-law, was a brilliant mathematician who loved Shakespeare, and every summer, once Mycroft could recite the verse properly, we would put on productions here -"

"Oh good lord -" Mycroft moaned and covered his face with both hands. "Lizzie - have mercy?"

"The whole village would audition, it was quite a big deal. Perhaps one day, we can try bringing it back, I didn't have the heart after -" Sherlock opened his eyes and murmured, "Twelfth Night - do you remember, Mycroft?"

Mycroft nodded. "I was -"

Greg grinned. "Let me guess, Malvolio?"

"Nope, he was actually quite a wonderful Viola," Sherlock sat up and shook his head. "I had forgotten, they were so much fun, I think I was in my first one when I was five - Midsummer - I was Mustardseed. I had four lines, and Myc played the mischievous Puck."

Greg closed his eyes, and spoke the words quietly into Mycroft's shoulder:

"If we shadows have offended,  
Think but this, and all is mended,  
That you have but slumber'd here  
While these visions did appear.  
And this weak and idle theme,  
No more yielding but a dream,  
Gentles, do not reprehend:  
if you pardon, we will mend..."

Mycroft rolled his eyes, but continued:

"And, as I am an honest Puck,  
If we have unearned luck  
Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,  
We will make amends ere long;  
Else the Puck a liar call;  
So, good night unto you all.  
Give me your hands, if we be friends,  
And Robin shall restore amends."*

 

It was past two in the morning when they finally called it a 'night', and though he had grumbled and groused heartily through the ordeal, Mycroft couldn't remember when he had enjoyed himself so much. As they fell into bed, Greg was still laughing. He took a deep breath, then looked down into Mycroft's eyes, and whispered hoarsely. "Do you know, Myc, what it feels like for me, to finally have a family? I was married before and had in-laws, but never felt at home with them. Thank you, for giving me so much, sometimes I wonder if you know how utterly grateful I am for you. Do you know, love?

Mycroft nodded. "I do, honestly, Gregory, every day, I know." 

They gently took each other apart, as if relearning one another, yet again, until they fell asleep as the sun was breaking through the clouds and they could hear the tea kettle being filled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act V, scene 1


	105. Chapter 105

"You're up early." Sylvia looked up from her book, shielding her eyes with her hand to block the bright morning light.

"Couldn't get back to sleep, just felt restless, and he needs to sleep." John nodded at the seat across from her with a questioning look.

"Of course." Sylvia bookmarked her page and closed her book, then waited for him to begin.

"You've kept my letters."

She nodded. "This was the first note you sent to me. Honestly, I was afraid to open the envelope. It sat on the kitchen table for three days before Harry opened it for me. She rolled her eyes and sighed at me, but she understood. You have to understand something. You and Harry are the best, the very best parts of my life, John. If I do nothing else, the fact that you two have turned out as you are, which had very little to do with me -"

John turned away from her and closed his eyes. "Mum. That's bollocks. It is. No, it wasn't pretty, in fact it was downright atrocious living in the house at times, but you gave us you, your intelligence, your stories, your imagination, and though I wish it had been easier - I am who I am because of what you gave me, you gave me the strength to leave when I did. I wish I had been able to help you and Harry, but I -"

"No."

John turned towards her and she reached out and laid her hand over his, he hadn't realized how tightly his fingers were gripping the table. She shook her head at him, and took his hand in hers.

"There was nothing else you could have done. You were in survival mode. I think even now at times, you revert to that, in times of stress, when you can't even tell Sherlock how he can help you, because you feel you are alone again. Last night, I saw how happy you can be; you have found a family, John. A family you can rely on, I hope some day, I will be included in that number - don't say anything, you don't have to. That you and Sherlock invited me, and Harry and Clara to this beautiful place for this time, to allow us to be witnesses to one of the best days of your life - some day, I might be able to tell you what it means to me. Now, I need another cuppa, may I get you one, still just a splash of milk?"

John nodded and she stood up and kissed the top of his head as she walked past him and into the kitchen.

 

Greg stretched and blinked at the morning light that had dared to filter into their bedroom. He looked down at Mycroft, still dead to the world, sprawled out under him on his stomach, it hadn't even been a month since Mycroft had retired, and they hadn't slept apart in that time. He was growing accustomed to knowing he would find his husband there when he woke up each morning. He hadn't truly understood what that meant to him until that moment, and he shook his head wishing he had the words to tell him. Greg got out of bed silently, visited the loo, then returned. He threw on his running clothes, then looked at Mycroft, who hadn't moved an inch - it had always been a joke between them - 'leg work', and Mycroft never joined him on his runs, it was his way of working off the stress so it didn't come home with him as often. There were nights when he needed a couple of strong drinks and his husband wrapped around him in silence, but running kept his mind clear of the occasional niggling things that he had to deal with on his own. He bent over the sleeping figure, kissed his tattoo gingerly, then quietly left the room.

"Just running to the village, wanna come?" He asked John who was finishing up his tea.

John squinted up at him and shrugged. "Sure, need to do something to offset Ollie's breakfasts and lunches and - be back in a minute." He ran to the bedroom and changed into shorts and a tshirt, just as Sherlock was emerging from the shower. "Damn - you are - have I told you how gorgeous you are today. Greg and I are just going for a run, back in a bit, and then - uhm -"

Sherlock kissed him soundly and grinned at the expression on John's face. "It still amazes me sometimes that I am the one who gets to do that to you -"

"Do what, exactly?" John breathed out, once he could find his words again.

"Make you speechless and breathless and turn your eyes that insanely dark indigo colour. Go. I promised Lizzie I'd help with that trifle of hers -"

"Not the -"

"Uhmhmmm..."

"Good thing I'm running today, hopefully we will find other ways to work it off later?"

Sherlock kissed him once more and nodded. "I think I could come up with something."

"I'm counting on it." John grinned, then winked at him as he left the room.


	106. Chapter 106

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit of a backstory on trifle: as I was getting back into writing this story again, I was watching the British Bakeoff Show, where the bakers had to create trifle from scratch; had to make whatever cake they were going to use, their own custard, some even made their own jam for it, and it seemed like a thing Lizzie would do for the boys, Myc would love it simply because it was a pudding, while Sherlock would want to watch it be built layer by layer, so here is a trifle of a story within a story :)
> 
> I imagine the end result looks something like this, but prettier:  
> http://allrecipes.com/recipe/18981/english-trifle-to-die-for/

As Sherlock was listening for the timer for the ladyfingers as they baked, he suddenly remembered being six years old, perched on a stool, fairly humming with excitement as he watched Lizzie stir the custard until it was just right. He closed his eyes and he could hear her whistling as the custard thickened, it always amazed him how she knew when to stop, it couldn't be too runny, or overcooked, it had to be just -

"Perfect." 

"Hmmm?" Sherlock blinked at Lizzie and looked down at the pile of strawberries he had been chopping in half while lost in a hazy bit of his childhood.

"That's plenty, love. I'll start the custard now, the timer just went off."

"Oh. Right." Sherlock put the knife down and moved to open the door to the oven, the little cakes, well, more biscuit than cake, he supposed, were nicely golden brown, and the smell of the almond extract Lizzie used made him close his eyes as he took a deep breath. "Mmmmm."

"Do you remember?" Lizzie murmured, not taking her eyes from the pot as she heated up the cream. "You always wanted to help me make them, you loved how the layers worked. Myc, loved the end result of course, but you, you wanted to know everything, why I did certain things at certain times, how the eggs and cream could work together without becoming a giant mess. I was sure when you were a bit older you would become a pastry chef. But eventually - you moved on." She stared thoughtfully into the cream for a moment before shaking her head.

"Should I whip the cream?" Sherlock asked, trying to keep his voice as normal as possible.

"In a bit, don't want to do it too early."

"Right. Do you still make your own jam, like you used to?"

"Yep, actually need to make some more soon, maybe when the raspberries are ripe, you and John can -"

"We'd love to." Sherlock said with a grin, as he tried to sneak a ladyfinger from the cooling rack.

Lizzie raised an eyebrow at him, but sighed and nodded. "Just the one, now, we have a full house -" Her voice changed and she removed the pot from the heat, and added the cream carefully to the egg yolks, then returned the mixture to the pot, once more. "They would have loved this week, Sherlock. They always loved having house parties, the dancing - damn." Sherlock took her place at the stove as she sat at the table. "Sorry. It's just so damned unfair that they aren't here."

Sherlock nodded as he focused on stirring the custard. It was the first time she had left it to him, and he didn't want to muck it up. He breathed a sigh of relief as it began to become the thickness he recalled from watching Lizzie do it time after time. He turned the heat off and moved the pot to let the custard cool. "They are here, though, Lizzie. I feel them in every room - not ghosts, exactly, but, their joy, d'ya know what I mean? And my Da, he would be so happy for you and Bits."

Her head popped up and she whispered, "Do you think so? I mean I know things are different now, but -" she bit her lip and glanced down at her ring that sparkled even with the light dusting of flour that coated it.

Sherlock moved to stand in front of her. He nodded, and murmured a bit wistfully. "He would be the one to walk you down the aisle to Bits. He would be the happiest for you - I know it. Speaking of which, John and I were wondering, if you and Bits would walk us down the aisle, I mean, I know it -"

"Damn it! I swore I wasn't going to cry until Sunday." Lizzie leapt up from her seat and flung her arms around Sherlock's waist. "Yes, course, you silly boy, it would make both of us very happy," she sniffed against his shirt and he held her tightly.

"You do know we will be back to help you pick the raspberries and make jam, we will be around here so much, you'll get sick of us."

Lizzie smacked his chest, then dried her eyes on her apron. "Don't be ridiculous, idiot boy - now, get going on whipping the cream, almost time to put the thing together."

"I love you, too, Lizzie."

She glared up at him for a moment then shook her head and kissed his cheeks. "I know, my boy. I know. Go - time's a wasting!"


	107. Chapter 107

"I'm out of shape." John panted as he collapsed on a park bench.

"Nah, just out of practice; you lads don't run around as much as you used to - yer gettin' a bit -" Greg was still jogging in place, trying not to tighten up before the five mile walk back.

"Soft?" John groaned as he leaned back and closed his eyes.

"Nope. Just happily domesticated?"

John snorted. "Domesticated. Is that what I am now?"

Greg stretched a bit, then joined John on the bench. "D'ya mind that much?"

John considered the question for a minute, then shook his head. "No, don't mind at all. Not really. The most important part of my life is him. And I know where he is, he always lets me know - especially since that night - he tells me everything that's bugging him..." Sensing the smirk on Greg's face, he rolled his eyes and nodded. "Eventually. But I can tell when something's off, his face gets all - I dunno what the word is..."

Greg nodded as he closed his eyes."Cloudy. Myc's face kinda blurs when he's working through something and isn't ready to tell me."

"Yeah, that. But it's been awhile, I think the stuff with my mum sort've made him focus, or something, he let the wedding planning go - I mean he's been done for weeks really, but you know, he's a perfectionist, if he could control the weather, he would. But, since my family has been around, he's really been -"

"Brilliant?"

John grinned, then moaned as he tried to stand up. "Yeah, he's been nothing short of astonishing, he crashes once in a while and sleeps more than he used to, which isn't a bad thing, but sometimes I worry I'm asking too much from him."

Greg laughed, then shook his head. "John. Mate. He - No. Never mind, ferget I said anything." 

"Wha -" John's face tightened briefly for a second, then he recovered. "No, I know he would do anything for me, I just wish I could do more for him, I just feel like he gives me so much and I -."

"Watch his face today when we get back, when you walk in the door, damn, John - it's like he breathes better simply because you exist, don't you know that?"

John bit his lip and nodded. "I do know, Greg. I do, I just - it's sometimes overwhelming to be that important to someone like him. D'ya know what I mean?" Greg nodded and they sat in silence together for a few minutes. John looked at his watch and sighed. "We better head back, if we miss the unveiling of 'The Trifle' I'll never hear the end of it."

Greg laughed and they slowly made their way back to the manor.

 

Mycroft had laid aside his journal and was fidgeting with his pen when Harry slid into the seat across from him.

"Your brother, is, uhm - he's -" Harry seemed lost for the word she was looking for and Mycroft smiled gently at her.

"Let's see, odd, incorrigible, nearly impossible, pain in the arse -" He twirled his pen between his long fingers as he recited the usual adjectives he'd ever heard used in reference to his brother.

"Lovely."

"Lovely. That's a new one." Mycroft laid his pen down and turned to examine Harry carefully for the first time. Blonde, just going ash, flashing blue eyes, he knew she was the younger of the Watsons, but like John, she wore her life history in her face, old scars that he could see, both physical and emotional, she was slowly healing, but it would take the rest of her life to recover, if ever.

"He's the best thing that could have happened to my brother. I know he has a history - don't we all. But he loves my brother - he sees him. And that's a rare thing, Mycroft. Not many people know how to look closely enough - you do. And Lizzie. You all have the patience, the curiosity, the empathy - yes, you do. I know. I can tell from this place, where you came from, who you came from, it's in you, doesn't matter how long all of you fought it. Any way, thank you for - I don't know exactly what to thank you for, but I have the feeling they are both alive today is because of you and Greg. Without the two of you - I know John wouldn't be here without Sherlock - and I know Sherlock wouldn't be as he is -"

"You give me too much credit, Harry." Mycroft shrugged and his voice almost dropped to a whisper. "He is - he is altogether a mystery to me most of the time, he feels everything. Always had growing up, I couldn't help him, didn't know he needed help - I had writing, I had other ways of getting by, but he, as intelligent as he is, his emotions almost - when our parents died - it nearly killed him. It took three years, but he was as dead as someone could be without actually dying, when Gregory found him. I had to let him go. I couldn't make him go to rehab. I mean, I could have, but I knew he would find ways around their rules and it wouldn't help him. Gregory gave him what he needed, he trusted him, put his faith in him when no one else did, until your brother -" Mycroft turned and faced her. "Your brother gave him, continues to give him - a reason, your brother changed his life, Harry. Saved him so many times, even when he had to -" Harry nodded. "John is the reason he's here, the reason he survived his time away, and has recovered as well as he has. They are -" Mycroft looked up to see Sherlock leaning against the doorway. "They are remarkable, Harry. I believe it is time to gain a couple of kilos?"

Sherlock nodded. "Just waiting on John and Greg, should be back soon, no need to dress." He smiled at them, then went back into the kitchen.

"Yeah, Mycroft. They are two of a kind." Harry closed her eyes and let the sun warm her face. "They broke the moulds when the gods made them."

Mycroft laughed. "I think the world couldn't deal with more than one of each."

"No, probably right about that." Harry smiled at him. "The world would be thrown out of orbit, or some such thing."

They laughed as John and Greg breathlessly came around the corner of the house. "Not late are we?" John managed to whisper before he fell into an empty seat.

"Nope, just in time. You might have time for showers." Greg bent down to kiss him and Mycroft rolled his eyes, and wrinkled his nose. "Definitely time for showers - go!"

They went.


	108. Chapter 108

12 June 2017

Sherlock -

To be quite honest, I never thought you would ever return home after our parents' death. I am so glad to be wrong. To see you here with Lizzie again, in a place where you were happy as a child, and to have the house filled with laughter and music again - and such love. I have to thank you for so much, and for once, the words are failing to communicate what it is I want you to know.

Your face as you and Lizzie presented the trifle yesterday. I've never seen you so shy and pleased and relieved (?). You kept your eyes on John, I think you held your breath until you saw his eyes glitter back at you, with that childlike happiness you bring out in him. It's as if you are teaching him how to be happy. I think it's as simple and as complicated as that. You have allowed him, given him permission to be happy. I don't think that is too small a gift to offer someone. What it means to me, is that you have rediscovered your joy, your joy that I thought you had lost. What I understand, or think I understand now is that it had simply laid dormant until you met John. 

Of course I had my misgivings - of course I did, until you faked your death and he stayed. He stayed, Sherlock. There were so many times I wanted to tell him that you would be back, to ease the grief I could see in his face, and in how he carried himself, but I didn't know. I didn't know if or when you would be back, in some ways, you were dead for me, even though I would receive updates, and I knew you were doing everything you could to return, for once I couldn't control something, I couldn't fix it for you. And then when they - when I lost you in Serbia - when you sent me that text, that one word, 'home,' you broke something in me, Sherlock. It took far longer than it should have for me to leave 'government work', but that moment when I knew you were at least safe and with John after I thought I had lost you without letting you know what you meant to me, I knew I needed to change something, but you were right to be distrusting of any overture I made, I should have tried harder to tell you, but you weren't ready, I wasn't ready to be open enough, honest enough to offer you the love I should have been able to give you without hesitation. I hope you know I am finally there. I hope you recognize that?

You deserve to be happy and loved, Sherlock. And I am so, so very grateful to be here to stand up with you. For you and John.

Much love, brother mine -

Myc

 

Sherlock refolded the paper and with trembling fingers carefully replaced it into its envelope, then laid his head down on his arms on the ancient kitchen table, and wept silent tears. Lizzie found him there an hour later, fast sleep, the letter tucked away safely in the pocket of his dressing gown.


	109. Chapter 109

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a bit more angst...will get the boys married tomorrow if you can handle a few chapters today...

"Caterers. Hmmmph. I ask you. Sherly. In my kitchen." Ollie groused as she took another sip of tea in the garden.

"I thought, we thought, that you would rather attend the festivities, have a couple of days off -" Sherlock closed his mouth quickly as he watched her face turn towards him.

"In MY kitchen, Sherly."

"What can I do, Ollie? I didn't want to burden you with this, I wanted you to be with us, be waited on for once, to enjoy the weekend. I know I should have asked you first, before I hired someone else, but I -"

"Did ya think me and the village girls couldn't handle this? Did ya think we weren't good enough to - I always thought -"

"Ollie, love, no." Sherlock shot up out of his chair and knelt in front of the cook. "No. Look at me, Ollie. Please?" He took her hands in his and looked at them. "These hands, Ollie, have loved and served and taught me for so long, all I wanted to do was take all the pressure from you this weekend and -"

"I'll have to go into the village and get a new hat, then, and a new dress, too, there was that one in the window last week - don't think yer forgiven quite so easy as that, Sherlock Holmes. Now get up off those knees, yer not the young thing ya used to be." She shook her head at him and sighed. "I do know when I'm bein' sweet talked, but thank you, love. I suppose just this once. Now, quit yer worryin'- things are going to be perfect for you and Dr. John." She kissed his forehead then smiled kindly at him. "Now, I have to get Lizzie to drive me into town, have to get my hair done, and maybe my nails, haven't done that in donkey's ages...go, go find yer doctor, he shouldn't be lazin' around when there are things to do." She stood and helped him to his feet. "You are a sweet boy, Sherly, always have been, don't let anyone ever tell ya otherwise." She kissed his cheek and went back into the house, making sure the catering staff knew she was ignoring them as she fairly glided through her kitchen.

Sherlock blew out the breath he had been holding and went to find John.

 

"All settled?" John looked up from his laptop, closing it quickly as Sherlock entered their room.

Sherlock nodded. "I should have considered Ollie - having a horde invade her territory, a bit not good." He walked over to the bed, collapsing next to John and closed his eyes. "I keep thinking something will happen, giant sinkholes, tornadoes, meteors - last night it was Godzilla - don't laugh - in Japanese, no subtitles or dubbing, black and white - Raymond Burr -"

John moved his laptop to the bedside table and pulled Sherlock into his arms. "Nothing is going to stop us from getting married. Breathe, love." He threaded his fingers into Sherlock's curls and waited until he could feel him take a breath, then blow it out slowly, then take another. "There. We have everything under control, Billy and his crew have done up the gardens, they are doing the chapel tomorrow; the programs are folded and ready, all one hundred and seventy five serviettes are neatly done -"

"Two hundred - just in case." Sherlock mumbled into John's chest.

"Two hundred. The suits still fit us by some miracle, shoes are polished, the caterers are banging around in the kitchen, getting things ready for tomorrow night's rehearsal dinner, everyone is behaving themselves, relatively speaking -"

Sherlock groaned, then raised his head and narrowed his eyes at John. "You have to admit that was terrible, even by your standards."

"I know, just making sure you were paying attention." John tried to smile at him but saw something in Sherlock's eyes that changed his mind.

"I always pay attention, John." John raised an eyebrow at him, and Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I'm better than I used to be -"

"Listen to me, love, it will be fine, everything will be perfect. Do you know why?"

Sherlock bit his lip and shook his head.

"Because no matter what else happens on Sunday, I am going to put a ring on your finger, and you are going to put one on mine, words will be spoken, and for the rest of my life, whatever is left of it, you will be mine, and I will be yours. Officially, we will be family. I know we are already, I know it, you know it, everyone who knows us already knows it as a fact, but on Sunday, we will make it official, and it will be brilliant. And you are amazing, but right now, love, I need you to sleep."

Sherlock laid his head back down over John's heart and listened for a moment, then whispered, "Stay, please? Just be with me?"

John kissed his hair and murmured, "Where else could I be, love?"

 

Mycroft rolled over and yawned, then opened his eyes. "What?"

"I wish I could tell you how beautiful you are so that you would believe it and never doubt it when I tell you. I don't have words for what it feels like when I get to watch you sleep. I -"

Mycroft reached for Greg and pulled him into his arms, letting him know without words how much he was wanted, how truly necessary he was. "If I am beautiful, Gregory, it is because I know I am loved, loved by someone as brilliant, and patient, and oh, damn, Greg-" Their eyes met and Greg was stunned to find tears glistening in Mycroft's eyes.

"Love. Mycroft - talk to me, what is going on -"

"Nothing. It's nothing." He turned to roll away, but Greg's gentle hands stopped him.

"No, it's not 'nothing'. Tell me, please? You know you can tell me anything, yeah?"

Mycroft nodded and closed his eyes tightly, letting the tears slide down his face. He felt Greg's arms tighten around him, his legs tangle with his - he always wondered at how well they fit together, as if always meant to be two pieces of a puzzle. He kissed Greg's chest and heard him sigh. "I have moments when I find myself looking backward, and I get lost, Gregory; all of the mistakes I made, the missteps, the wrong turns, the decisions - I can't turn it off sometimes, I can't make it stop."

Greg held him even tighter, then mumbled into his hair, "I can't offer you absolution, Myc. All I can offer you is everything I am, everything I will ever be. I love you as you are now, as you were then, the day I met you, I never stopped loving you from that moment our eyes met. My heart was always with you, even when we were separated by an ocean, time, and circumstances. You have to forgive yourself, love, you have to let the past be in the past, you can't change it, or repair it."

He stopped for a moment and pulled away enough to wipe Mycroft's tears from his face, then took a breath and went on. "On Sunday, in less than two days, your brother, by some miracle, probably several miracles were needed I would think, is finally going to marry the love of his life, and of all the people in his life, he asked you to stand up for him. I know, you think he doesn't have many friends, but he does, Myc, he has people he could have asked, but he chose you, because you are important to him, he has, in his own way, if not forgiven you, made his own peace with you, for himself, so he could move on. On the most important day of his life, he wants you by his side, Mycroft. He needs you to be there for him, he deserves that; so please, for him, for me, but most importantly, love, for yourself, even if it's just for that day, those few hours, turn it off. You have such a good heart, a true heart, let him see that, let him know he is loved and needed. Let it be enough to stand by his side and offer your blessing and your love for him."

Mycroft nodded against Greg's chest, and finally all of the emotions he had been holding in check since his retirement, and the memories of all of the years before when he tried to ignore the fact that he was in fact human came crashing down around them. All Greg could do was hold on, and wait, as the silent tears flowed over them, until eventually Mycroft fell asleep as if shattered. "I'm so sorry, love. Rest, my heart."

 

Lizzie, Bits and Ollie returned to a strangely quiet house, save for the busy work happening in the kitchen. Clara and Harry were sitting at the garden table; Clara with her eyes closed, a book in her lap, while Harry was busy sketching something. Harry looked up as she heard the door close. "Everyone else is sleeping, still sleeping off the trifle, I'm guessing," Harry grinned. "Oh, Ollie, your hair is perfect, the boys will be knocked over."

"Harry, now, don't talk gibber- do you really think so? I wanted her to do something a bit different, I really haven't changed since -"

"The nineteen-seventies?" Lizzie grinned and Bits giggled as she draped her arm around Ollie's shoulder.

"Hmmm, probably about then, it's been about that long since I've been to a proper event that required somethin' special. Now, I need to put all my new things away, and then - I'm afraid it's nothing but a cold lunch since my ovens are in use. And I'm not fighting them that have - no, I know, and it does smell quite nice in there, I have to say. Ah, well, think I may just take a wee kip myself. Thank you ladies for the lift and the help." Ollie nodded to them all and made her way to her room.

"She's over the disruption in her kitchen, then?" Harry asked as she watched Ollie disappear from view.

Lizzie nodded. "Sherlock talked to her, and she found a couple of nice frocks and shoes and hats..." 

Harry laughed, and closed her sketchbook, then stood and stretched. "Sometimes shopping is good for the soul. She touched Clara's shoulder lightly and murmured, "Clara, love, let's go change and go for a walk, yeah?"

Lizzie fell into the chair that Clara had just vacated and sighed. "It's too quiet, Bits. I'm not sure I like it."

Bits sat down next to her and took her hand. "Lizzie, it may be the peace before the storm, but this quiet feels different to me, it isn't the quiet of ghosts and of trouble coming, but the silence of tired minds resting. Look at me, Lizzie. They are fine, John and Greg know what they need, they are safe, love.

 

Sherlock opened his eyes slowly, expecting to see sunlight, instead, the room was dark, and he heard thunder rolling in. "Damn. John?"

"Love?"

"What time is it?" He tried to listen for noises in the house, but could hear only, could see only the man who was smiling down at him.

"About 9 o'clock."

"Nine? You let me sleep -"

"Sherlock, how often do I 'let' you do anything. You needed to sleep, love."

"I have things that need my attention-"

"What things?"

"You know - uhm - 'things.'"

John shook his head. "No."

"No?" Sherlock whispered as he saw John's eyes grow darker, to that deep indigo colour and he was lost. 

"No, I'm the only one who needs your complete, undivided attention at this moment."

All Sherlock could do was nod.

 

Lizzie looked up over her specs to see Mycroft fall into the overstuffed leather chair across from her. She put down her journal and pen, then pushed her glasses into her hair.

"Are you, were you -"

"What?" Lizzie was a bit unnerved to find Mycroft stumble over his words.

"Surprised the first time you met Gregory, the first time I brought him here?"

"Honestly?" She tried to figure out where the question was coming from.

"Please?"

"I was a bit. Until I saw how he was with you, how you were with him. You - how do I say this? You breathe, you exist in a different way when you are with him. You relax into yourself, does that make sense? He allows you peace, and I know you give him the same gift. You fill each other in places where you were empty before. It's always been that way, hasn't it?"

Mycroft nodded.

"When he told me how you met, it made more sense to me, you were still wide open then, you were still willing to risk everything, and you found someone who accepted you as you were. Unfinished, unknown, you still had growing to do, love. When he left without you, you stopped growing, you became someone who thought his way through the world, and for a long time, it was enough, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"You've started growing again, since you've retired. You're learning to depend on your instincts and your emotions, and it's muddling things up, things that had seemed so clear to you have become a bit murky. And you are trying to decide -"

"I'm not sure what to trust."

"You trust him, though."

"Implicitly. He's never lied to me." Mycroft looked at his hands. "I try to be as honest with him, I try not to hide from him, but it is different now, I don't have a way of balancing myself - I fell asleep sobbing uncontrollably in his arms a few hours ago, Lizzie. I just felt everything all at once, everything, it's all jumbled up, like that old basket of yarn Mum would work on when she was stuck on a problem. Sometimes, she'd spend hours, just picking at it, and then suddenly, it was as if a light went off."

"We can find you a basket of yarn, Myc, I'm sure there must be something up in the attic." Lizzie smiled at him kindly and he tried to grin back at her. "No, sweetie, I know what you mean. You just need time, it was good when it was just the two of you, yes? He would come home from work, and it was uncomplicated, easy?" He nodded again at her. "It's almost like you had a growth spurt, and you are trying to adjust to being a different shape. I remember when you shot up, you had been chubby as a child, but over a few months, when you were, hmm...twelve, the year you played Puck, you had thinned out and shot up. Your voice was changing, and everything was a misery, and yet, that summer, you were splendid, even in that ridiculous heat wave."

"I was terrified." Mycroft smiled for the first time since he had sat down, and Lizzie saw him, the man he was becoming, and it frankly took her breath away.

"No, I know you were, but you know what, love?" She got up and went over to him and took his hands in hers.

"What?" He looked up into her eyes, and tried to turn away, but couldn't.

"This time, you aren't alone, you have someone who loves you. He knows, Myc. He knows who you are, he already knows, and he loves you. He will wait for you to catch up."

"Is it that simple, Lizzie?" He whispered almost brokenly.

She squeezed his hands and nodded. "It's that simple, love, now go on back to him before he wakes up."

He closed his eyes, then opened them again and kissed her cheek. "Thank you, Lizzie."

"Go."

"I'm going, I'm going. I love you."

She smiled at him, and pointed in the direction of his room. "I know, I love you, too."

 

Lizzie crawled into bed and sighed as she felt Bits snuggle tightly around her. "Everything okay?" Bits whispered between her shoulder blades.

"Yes, Bits, just a touch of growing pains I believe."

"Ah. Thank goodness we are a bit old for that nonsense."

Lizzie turned and caught Bits smiling broadly at her. Her bright eyes flashed and Lizzie giggled. She covered her mouth with her hand, and Bits crowed in delight.

"Night, my love."

"Night, Bits. I love you."

"I love you, too."


	110. Chapter 110

13 June 2017

 

My Dear Son,

 

Tonight, as I sat across from you and Sherlock at dinner, I was once again struck by his gentleness, his kindness in regards to you. And yet, he depends on your strength, he needs your patience and your seemingly endless supply of faith. You have the optimism that he sometimes has difficulty believing in, while you allow him to share his overwhelming sense of joy with you. I don't think I've ever seen you as happy as I saw you this evening. And to see you, laughing and dancing with Harry, even as you both couldn't keep your eyes from your feet, you don't know how much it meant to me, to see the two of you as you once were, but even better than when you were children, because I knew you were safe, happy and loved.

I love you, so very much.

Mum

 

13 June 2017

 

Sherlock - 

 

I hope you don't mind, but I already consider you my son; you have become so dear to me in these last few weeks. I knew from the first moment at Angelo's when our eyes met as you reached out to shake my hand that you loved John. I have learned how strong, and deep and true that love is in the brief time I have known you. Please know how much I recognize and appreciate what he means to you and what you mean to him. Thank you, once again, for the enormous gift of being present with you and your family this week, it means so much to me.

Much love to you, my dear,

Sylvia

 

She sealed the envelopes and placed the notes in the growing pile of gifts that had been arriving for the last few weeks.

"How are you, Sylvia?" Lizzie asked quietly at her side.

"I'm fine, I think. A bit nervous for tomorrow."

Lizzie cleared her throat, and for the first time, Sylvia saw Lizzie unsure of something. "Do you mind, honestly, that the boys asked Bits and me to walk them down the aisle? I should have asked you - but - I was a bit overwhelmed, I hadn't expected it. I hope -"

"No, Lizzie. It is absolutely perfect. I know how important you are to Sherlock and to John, John trusts you, and I know he loves you very much. And you and Bits have been so kind to me, to us, I was worried - I wasn't sure what to expect, but I should have known, I have only found kindness here, Lizzie. Thank you."

"What for?" Lizzie whispered, then wondered why she was whispering.

Sylvia met her intelligent, piercing blue eyes and whispered back, "For not judging me, for accepting us, all of us, as we are. I know we still have a lot of work to do, but we are all together, for John, for Sherlock, for them, and I never thought - I never believed I'd see my children happy and safe, but to be with them, here - I'm just babbling now, I need to go to bed, I think."

Lizzie wrapped her arms around her and held her for a moment. She felt Sylvia freeze, then slowly relax and then return the embrace. "You are welcome, Sylvia, and you will always be welcome here, always, my dear. You and your children are my family, our family, Sylvia, always will be. Get some rest, now, it will be a long day tomorrow."

 

"You're not going to make me stay away from you tomorrow, are you?" John whispered to the darkness.

"What are you on about?" Sherlock sat up and leaned on an elbow trying to see John's face in the tiny bit of light from the hallway.

"You know, how it's bad luck to see your betrothed on the day of the wedding before we see each other in the chapel?"

"Don't be ridiculous, that's just silly. Who will do my tie for me and tell me if a curl is out of place?"

John rolled his eyes, but managed to laugh. "That's what mirrors were invented for, love."

"You are the only mirror I need, John."

John was quiet for so long, Sherlock thought he had fallen asleep. "John?"

"Sorry - it's just, I think that's the most beautiful thing you've ever said to me."

"It's only the truth, John. If I don't make it clear tomorrow, please know, there is no one in this world I trust and love more than I do you."

"Me too, uhm, all that. Ditto. Does that count?"

Sherlock laughed, bent over him, and kissed him sweetly, then murmured against his lips. "I'll take it, John. Even if you don't say a word tomorrow, just nod, or wink, anything, it will be enough for me."

"I love you, you idiot."

"Yeah, I know. Now go to sleep." He rolled on to his back again.

They both stared into the darkness for a long time before Sherlock whispered, "I love you, too, John." Sherlock blew out a breath and his hand searched for John's. Their fingers brushed, and John pulled Sherlock into his arms, as they both fell asleep.


	111. Chapter 111

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Mother's Day to all of all of my lovely readers. My gift to all of you is to get the idiot boys married in the way they always should have been. A bit more angst in this chapter, but be ready for extra squishy fluff sometime today. Much love to all of you. <3 <3 <3

Lizzie stood at the kitchen window as she sipped her cup of tea.

"Skies clear?" John whispered next to her.

"So far. Up early -" She turned and stopped as she saw his face. "John?"

"I'm fine. Just need a cuppa. Some fresh air."

She nodded as she poured him out a cup. They settled at the table and watched the sun turn the sky green, then golden, and gradually blue. "Like his eyes," John muttered into his tea. 

"His mother's eyes, Rosie's were the same, they could turn on a dime. My brother's eyes were brown, never changed, but Rosie's -"

"The first time I met him -"

"Is that when you knew? Sorry. Not my business."

John laughed. "No, it's perfectly fine." He laid down his cup carefully in its saucer and closed his eyes. "I never believed in love at first sight, didn't even believe in love at all really, especially not then. I wasn't even going to go out that day, but the weather had been so dark the days before, and that Tuesday began much like this one, it was a beautifully bright morning, and I decided to take a walk, in those days it was more of a limp through the park, I was about to turn back when I bumped into an old classmate, and - short answer, when he looked over at me, and I got the tiniest glimpse of his brilliant eyes, I knew I had lost my heart." He took a sip of tea, then cleared his throat. "I nearly lost the chance to tell him that, because I was a coward, Lizzie. I was afraid to tell him, I didn't want to lose him in case he didn't want, didn't feel the same way, I didn't know until he -"

"Left you." Lizzie's voice dropped to a whisper, "How did you know?"

"From his voice, he didn't have to say it, I heard it, when he said goodbye to me -"

"John. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, of all days -" Lizzie laid her hand over John's and he shook his head. 

"No, Lizzie. You just reminded me again how fortunate I am that I get to tell him every every day how much I love him, and that I get to tell him today by finally putting a ring on his finger. I didn't think it was important, I thought as long as he knew how much I loved him it was enough, but when I see Greg and Mycroft, and you and Bits, knowing how hard it has been for you, for all of you to have what you have now, I want this day for him, for us, so people know - I have to go back inside. Thank you for the tea, Lizzie, and thank you for -"

Lizzie shook her head. "Thank you for loving him so well, John, thank you for waiting for him, for bringing him back home to us, without you, he would never have come back." She stood and walked the few steps to stand in front of him. She reached out and touched his face. "Thank you, John."

John nodded then leaned his head into her shoulder, and wrapped his arms around her. "Thank you for loving him, thank you for giving him a home to come back to."

They stood there together until they heard the clanging of activity in the kitchen. "Go take him a cuppa, and have a bit of quiet time before the curious hordes arrive." To herself, she muttered, "Been a long time coming..."

"How long, Bits?" John turned to face her again.

"Hmm?"

"The last time someone was married here?"

"Rosie and my brother, William."

"You and Bits will be next."

Lizzie took a shuddering breath, then nodded. "Only because of you, and Sherlock. And you were never a coward, John. Love is not for cowards, real love takes patience and heart and guts, and you don't have a damn thing to prove to anyone, John. Remember that today. Yes?"

John nodded and kissed both her cheeks, then smiled and went back inside.

 

"I'm sorry -" Greg mumbled as he woke up to see Mycroft at the window.

Mycroft turned and looked at him with a smile. "No, you were right. About all of it." He walked over to the bed and sat next to Greg, then kissed him lightly. "I'm not here for me, I don't want or need anything from him, I just want to give him what he gave to me when I married you."

Greg sat up and kissed him back, then whispered, "What was that, love?"

"He was there, Greg, he told me what I needed to hear, which was basically what you told me last night. I want you to know how much it means to me to wear your ring, to be your husband, to love you. And I'm sorry for -"

"Myc -"

"Please, I need to say this. I am so sorry for letting you go so easily, I didn't understand, I didn't know until you left what you meant, I didn't know until years later - I mean I knew, but I didn't know. Damn, I suck at this - I just need you to know I want to spend the rest of my life loving you the way I should have -"

"Shh..." Greg laid a finger on Mycroft's lips and shook his head. "We have a couple hours still before the chaos begins, no more talking, Myc. Please?"


	112. Chapter 112

John placed Sherlock's tea on the bedside table and slid back into bed, seeking Sherlock's warmth.

"Hmmmphh? John? Everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's early yet, go back to sleep."

"You're freezing, come here." John scootched back into Sherlock's arms and took a deep breath. "You didn't have to do this."

"Do what?" John sighed as Sherlock's lips traveled across his shoulders.

Sherlock stopped and mumbled quietly."Today. We could have done the Registry Office weeks ago, and we would already be married, and you wouldn't have had to deal with all this fuss."

"Is this what you want, Sherlock? Today? Do you want all the fuss?"

Sherlock muttered, "Yes. I want this, all of it. I used to look at my Mum and Da's wedding album, I had dreams of a wedding that I thought would never happen. Because it couldn't happen back then, it was something I never told anyone, because I knew it wasn't quite the thing, it didn't exist -"

John turned in his arms and wrapped himself tightly around Sherlock. "Well, today, it is happening. I am marrying you, Sherlock Holmes. And you, God help you, are marrying me. Unless you are having second thoughts?"

"Never. I - " Sherlock's eyes flashed bright blue and slowly turned into that greenishgold colour that John had seen only a few times before. 

"I'm sorry, love. Damn. I was kidding. Shh - I brought you a cup of tea, it may be already cold, but - you're not going to be able to go back to sleep, are you?"

Sherlock bit his lip and shook his head. "It's not too early to get ready, is it?"

"It's 6:30, five and a half hours, love. I don't know about you, but I don't think I can deal with breakfast today, the butterflies are tap dancing already. Do you want to shower and go from there?"

Sherlock nodded, and John kissed his forehead before sitting up and reaching for the mug Lizzie had put into his hands before he had headed back to bed. It was still warm. Sherlock looked down into the mug, then glanced up and met John's eyes. He handed it back to him and John laid it back on the table, then turned back and lay down against the headboard. "Come here, love, we have time, all the time we need. I love you, so much, Sherlock."

Sherlock closed his eyes and felt John's heart beat against his fingers. "I love you, too. I've wanted this day to come for so long, and now - now that it's here, I'm afraid to get out of bed. It's ridiculous. Isn't it?"

John shook his head. "No. Just remember, this won't truly change how we are, you know that, right? You will still be an impossible, brilliant, terrifyingly gorgeous madman, and I will always be the one who cherishes the ground you trod upon, the one who will always be there beside you, as I am right now. That won't change. Today is just an affirmation, a party, a celebration of the fact that we were lucky to find one another, and survive each other long enough to get to this day."

Sherlock chuckled and rolled them so John was staring down into his eyes.

"I know how lucky I am, how lucky we are, John, I do. Truly, I just - I just don't want to have to share you today."

"It's just for a few hours, love. You know Myc will be disappointed if he doesn't get to give his Best Man speech."

"Oh dear lord -" Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed. "I don't suppose, you want to - oh. John. hmmmmm....love. ohhhh dammmmmnnnn."

John's eyes glittered down at him and whispered, "Did that answer any questions, love?"

Sherlock managed to nod before he rolled them again and watched John's eyes roll back into his head. "I love you, John Hamish Watson, I want nothing more than to spend the day taking you apart, but we have to get married in a few hours, so I'm afraid we will have to do this rather quickly...."

"Damn."


	113. Chapter 113

"Mum?" 

"John? Hold on -"

"Yes, dear - oh. Well. You look -"

"I know, I look ridiculo -"

"Beauti- uhm, handso- no, the word is beautiful, sorry, dear, but - turn around?"

John spun, then came to a stop in front of the mirror and blinked.

"You look splendid. Has Sherlock seen you yet?"

John shook his head. "He's still doing his hair, I just wanted to see you before. Uhm. Thank you. Thank you for letting me have this."

"What exactly, dear?"

"Your blessing, your presence, your love, it means everything to me that you are here, that my family is here today."

"Stop, dear, you are going to make my face run." Sylvia kissed both cheeks, afraid to crumple his pristine suit. "I'll hug you after, yes?"

John nodded and kissed her on her forehead, and they took a breath together.

"JOHN!!!"

"Thar he blows!" John grinned at Sylvia then spun on his heel and almost crashed into Sherlock.

"Jo-" Sherlock started, his curls were finally staying where they were intended to go, after much fussing, but he was still in his dressing gown. "It's almost -"

"It's only 11, love, you have plenty of time. To get dressed. Don't look at me like that - come on, let's get you ready."

 

Lizzie sighed at her image in the mirror, turning at Bits' footsteps that stopped behind her.

"Stop it. You look amazing. Do you think the tux a bit much?"

"Not at all, you can wear exactly what you wish, Bits, and you look stunning in it. It's missing something, though."

"Lizzie?"

"I bought this the week before we were supposed to leave for London. I think it will still fit you, I'm not sure, if you need a chain, we will find you one, I wanted you to have it today, before we walk the boys down the aisle. I thought it was important." Lizzie took a box out of the top drawer of her bureau and opened it. It was a solitaire sapphire, brilliant cut, in a simple setting. "May I?" Bits nodded and she swore silently as she felt a tear start to move down her cheek, while Lizzie slid it on her finger. "Still fits you, just as it was always meant to."

 

"Are we ready?" Bits sniffed at their reflection, her hat in one hand, her other hand was held tightly by Lizzie.

"Ready as we will ever will be. Let's go get the boys."

 

Mycroft opened their bedroom door to find Sherlock waiting for him. "How are you?"

"Honestly?" Sherlock murmured.

Mycroft nodded.

"I feel like I need to throw up."

"You'll be fine." Mycroft stepped back and looked at his brother."The suit suits you."

Sherlock cracked a smile at him and let out a breath. 

"Breathing is a good idea, I know John is a doctor, but we don't want him doing CPR on you."

"Right. Breathing. Good. Passing out. Bad."

"Exactly. Are you ready?"

"You have the ring?"

"Of course, right here." Mycroft pulled the ring from his pocket and put it into Sherlock's hand. "Ready, then."

"Yes. Thank you, Myc."

Mycroft shook his head and adjusted Sherlock's tie. "No, brother mine, thank you."

 

Greg was pacing outside the chapel wishing he still smoked. "Greg! There you are." He turned to find John out of breath, as if he'd been running a marathon.

"John. Slow down, breathe. What is it?"

"I just saw all the cars parked out there - there's hundreds of them."

"Only a few dozen."

"Right - only a few dozen."

"Look at me, mate." Greg laid a steady hand on John's shoulder. "You were in Afghanistan. All yer doing today is getting married to the man you love. Easy."

"Yeah. Easy. I can't remember a single fucking word I wrote down. It's gone, they are gone."

Greg grinned and shook his head. "You'll know what to say when you get there, mate, it will be whatever you need to say to him. Now, breathe, here come the ladies, Myc and I have to go first, we'll seat your mum and Harry and Clara, then you'll be on."

 

If Bits and Lizzie meant to get a reaction from the village, they were not disappointed. Somehow the village busybodies had missed the news of their reunion, so when the ladies entered the chapel, each with a groom on their arm, a burble of hushed astonishment erupted in the ancient pews. John was sure he could hear Harry's laughter, and when he saw Clara nudging her in the side, he had to stifle a grin. But soon the crowd hushed as Mycroft and Greg took their places and the organist began to play. Lizzie went first, Sherlock finally had recovered his balance that he had lost that morning, and Mycroft was reminded how close his brother had come to not being here, not just once, but too many times to count. He blew out a breath as Sherlock grinned at him. Mycroft knew Sherlock understood what he was thinking, he always did. Finally Sherlock stopped at Lizzie's seat in the front pew, and squeezed her hand, then took his place next to Mycroft. John kissed Bits on the forehead and helped her to her seat, then found his place next to Greg.

"Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here in this ancient place to celebrate the union of these two gentle men, William Sherlock Scott Holmes and John Hamish Watson...."


	114. Chapter 114

"John - I'm reminded of something Clara said to me a while ago. She said I will know what I'm supposed to say to you when I see you standing there in front of me, and all I can say is thank you. Thank you for changing my life, in ways I am still learning about; for not giving up on me, most normal people would have - you know what I mean - you give me so much, John. I don't think you know how much. There are days, when seeing you smile at the end of a long day is the only reason I keep going, when everything hurts and nothing makes sense. You do. You have always made sense to me, somehow, when very little else in this world does. This ring I am putting on your finger is a symbol of my deep gratitude and everlasting love for you. I hope when you look at it, you will remember that you are so very, very loved.

Sherlock pulled the ring from his pocket and held John's trembling hand in his. "With this ring, I give you everything I am, everything I have, everything I will ever be. I gave you my heart long ago, today, I offer you this ring in hopes that you will always know that your heart is safe with me."

 

John cleared his throat and took Sherlock's hand in his. "Sherlock. I had my vows written so long ago. I thought I knew what you meant to me then. In the last few weeks, however, you have made me understand that our love cannot be simply explained in a few flowery phrases. Our love is too strong, too big, too solid to be spoken of lightly, in ways that I can make others understand. So, I will just say this. You saved me the very first moment our eyes met, the first time your hand brushed mine, the first time we ran through the rooftops of London, the first time you made me laugh, when I thought I would never laugh again, you had me in tears of laughter within 48 hours of meeting you. You offered me a home, a hope that I could be of use again, and a love that I never thought I could possibly deserve, but you gave, Sherlock, you kept on giving until I finally understood that all I had to do was reach out for you and you would be there. It was almost - I almost waited -"

"John - " Sherlock held him in his arms until the shaking stopped.

John shook his head and stepped back a bit, wiping his eyes, and stood up tall, trying to match Sherlock's gentle smile. "I almost waited too long. Today, as I put this ring on your finger, I offer you my heart, which you already have, and everything I have been, all that I am now, and whatever I will become in the future." John slid the golden band onto Sherlock's finger, then gently kissed his hand.

 

"I know pronounce you husbands, which you have obviously been for some time before today, you may -"

Sherlock grinned as John laid his hands carefully on the sharp cheekbones and kissed him sweetly, then somehow managed to turn the kiss into something that would definitely be remembered for generations to come. By the time Sherlock came up for air, the cold chapel seemed several degrees warmer. "Damnnnn...." whispered Sherlock, and the ancient building erupted into laughter.

Mycroft managed to find his voice and announce, "Luncheon will be served in the tent, you will find your name at one of the tables, and there are waiters to assist you if needed." He watched as the villagers rose from their seats and set out into the early afternoon sunlight. After the chapel was cleared, he watched Sherlock and John still standing there, just staring at each other, as if afraid to move, as if the bubble they were in would burst and they would be lost.

"Well done boys, you must starving."

John blinked first and looked down at his hand. "It's real."

Sherlock nodded. "Yes, John, it's real, I promise, it's real. You are stuck with me for a very long time, I hope."

John reached up and touched Sherlock's lips with his fingertips. "A very, very long time, love."


	115. Chapter 115

Mycroft looked out into the sea of people sitting and eating, chattering, laughing; a few children running around, not caring what the adults were on about and he briefly wondered if he'd ever been like that.

Lizzie saw the expression on his face and nodded. He winked at her, then turned to Greg and raised an eyebrow at him, "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

"Right, here goes." He picked up his champagne glass and clinked it gently with his unused fork. "Ladies and gentlemen, before we move onto the important parts of this afternoon, namely that glorious looking cake over there, which may or may not have a few small fingerprints on it already - not naming any names..." as he glared down at one small boy hiding under a table. "but do remember we have in attendance today, not only the 'World's only Consulting Detective' but at least half of Scotland Yard, so do take care; we do have to take care of some business, which I'm afraid means you will have to listen to two very brief speeches." A mild groan filled the tent for a moment, and Mycroft nodded. "Yes I know, let it out - there, feel better?" The gathered crowd laughed and gave him their attention.

"I am standing here before you today because a few years ago, a certain doctor walked into a lab at St. Barts' and forever changed my brother's life. At first I wasn't sure what to make of him, but Sherlock knew better; my brother who at that time call himself a high-functioning sociopath and lived only for his work, suddenly found his partner, the one person who eventually would save his life, many times over, simply by loving him. My brother, who for too many years took my advice to heart, somehow understood that he could indeed care for someone and allow someone to care for him in return, and not survive intact, but become a better person, a whole person for it. For many years, I couldn't see Sherlock as anything but my younger brother, still needing my help; over the last few months, especially the last couple of weeks, I have come to realize that my brother not only no longer needs my assistance or terrible advice, but he has taught me how it is possible and necessary to find and hold on to the people you love most. Sherlock, John, thank you for inviting Gregory and me to stand here to sing your praises, and for teaching us how to love one another and ourselves in ways that make us better, happier human beings. Everyone, please stand and raise your glasses. Sherlock and John!"

"Sherlock and John!"

Sherlock reached over and grabbed John's hand, as if holding on for dear life. John brought their hands to his lips and smiled at him, in that way that allowed him to catch his breath again.

Mycroft reseated himself, and Greg took his place. He cleared his throat and looked out at the crowd, smiling when he saw Donovan sitting there with some of her colleagues, still looking slightly shocked to be there. "I first met Dr. John Watson at a crime scene a bit over seven years ago. No clue who he was, but Sherlock clearly trusted him. Later, I learned they had met just the day before. Understand, I had known Sherlock since his twenties, and I knew he still didn't trust me even though we had known each other for years. But, I saw something at that first crime scene, there was something about John that made Sherlock better, not as a detective, but as a person. Yes, he was still an arrogant sod, and continues to be at times, even now, but John has, over the years softened his sharp edges, yet allowed him to be the brilliant arse he always has been - John helped him to realise that he deserved to be loved and cared for, and we are all the better for it. I have been honoured to be John's friend, and now, I proudly stand here as his brother. Please raise your glasses to two of the people I love and respect most in the world, to John and Sherlock!

"John and Sherlock!"

Greg found his seat again, and Lizzie took the podium. "And now, time for cake, Sherlock and John, are you ready to do the honours?"

 

An hour later, after much laughter and firsts, seconds and thirds of the ridiculously rich chocolate fudge cake were demolished, Greg took center stage once more, this time, he asked Sherlock and John to join him on the dance floor. "Sherlock, John asked me to compose something for you, of course it is for both of you, as you ceased simply being Sherlock Holmes since the moment you met John. You became part of something greater that day, a partnership, a love - I've never seen two people who love one another more honestly than the two of you. I hope you will hear this for what it is -"

The room fell silent when Sherlock took John in his arms as Greg began to play. John leaned against Sherlock's chest and let Sherlock lead him in an easy dance that mirrored Greg's elegant, yet simple piece; over the course of two minutes, Sherlock closed his eyes and was reminded first of their meeting, light and brilliant, to their separation, dark with a thread of the sacrifices both had made, he had no idea how Greg had done it, he would have to ask him later, then back again, through their recovery and to this sunlit afternoon. When the last note ended, no one moved, except for Sherlock and John, who kept stepping to the music only they could still hear. Slowly couples got up from their seats and walked over to the dance floor. Once more, Greg raised the instrument, laid his bow on the strings, and began to play a gentle waltz. 

Eventually the dj Sherlock had hired took center stage and the tables had cleared out making way for the happiest, loudest and most certainly wildest wedding reception Sussex had ever been witness to, but through it all, Sherlock and John kept swaying gently, paying no attention to anything or anyone else around them, until the first drops of rain made everyone scream and take refuge in their cars or inside the manor. 

Still they danced on.

"It's raining," John whispered into Sherlock's shoulder.

"Uhmhmm. I know."

"Don't you want to go somewhere dry?"

"Uhuh, unless you want to."

"Nope, not going anywhere." John mumbled and was quiet once more.

 

"Where are they?" Ollie muttered to Lizzie and Bits as they stood at the window and watched the rain fall in sheets.

"Still out there, dancing." Lizzie shook her head and sighed.

"Idiots, they will both catch colds -"

"But they are such lovely idiots." Lizzie grinned as she leaned into Bits' shoulder.

"Aye, that they are, Lizzie, that they are."


	116. Chapter 116

Sure enough, as Ollie had predicted, the just married couple spent the next three days in bed recovering from their overly long stay out in the worst thunderstorm Sussex had seen in decades. Though as Lizzie whispered to Bits as she checked in on them halfway through the second day of their convalescence, "They don't seem to be minding too much; it's almost as if he planned it."

Bits shook her head at Lizzie as she shut the door. "How on earth could he have planned it?"

"You don't know Sherlock very well, yet, love."

 

"You picked the 14th on purpose didn't you?" John grumbled into Sherlock's neck as he heard their footsteps go down the hall.

"Why would I do that?" His new husband whispered miserably, as he had lost most of his voice over the last day and a half due to nearly non-stop coughing.

"I have a few theories," John managed to prop himself up on an elbow and smile down at him.

"Maybe I just liked the date?"

"Uhmhmmm?"

"Or maybe I didn't want to have to socialize for hours? Maybe I just like rain?" Sherlock sneezed again and reached for another Kleenex.

"Maybe you are just an idiot, who spent way too many hours on the Weather Channel website? I should have known you were up to something."

"Well, next time we get married, you can plan all the details out -"

"The next time? Once is plenty, thank you." John sniffed and pretended to roll away in a snit.

"John."

"John?"

"I'm sorry - I just - I do happen to like rain, and the fourteenth was my mum's birthday."

John turned back to face Sherlock with a suspicious look in his eyes. "Really?"

"Uhmhmm, truly, now can we just cuddle some more and go back to sleep?"


	117. Chapter 117

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of an epilogue...thank you for following this little bit that eventually grew into a great big bit. I will add little side pieces as these characters come after me again. <3

Lizzie sat down next to Sherlock in the shade of the ancient oak tree that still held remnants of the old treehouse they had built back when Sherlock was about to turn five. She removed her gardening gloves and pushed a curl from her eyes. "Any word from Myc and Greg, yet?"

Sherlock laughed, and pulled out his phone. "To quote Greg, how did he put it...ah, yes, here it is, 'Myc has seen more of Paris in the two days we've been here than he did in his 20 years of government work, he'd never even seen the Mona Lisa before, he thought it would be bigger.' Not surprising since all Myc did was go from meeting to meeting, then fly home again. He's finally getting to experience Paris as a civilian. I wonder how he dealt with traveling like us mere mortals..."

"Sherlock -" Lizzie shook her head at him, but was trying to stifle her own laughter.

"I know, still - must have been quite an adjustment for him - ready for elevenses, Lizzie? I think we've earned our tea, don't you think?"

Lizzie looked into the full buckets of raspberries and nodded. "I think so. It will be too hot after tea to pick more, maybe when Sylvia and the girls get here tomorrow morning, we'll get a few more buckets worth. Harry has finally finished your portraits, and they all need a break, she's been working as if -"

"Possessed?"

"Exactly the word Sylvia used." Lizzie turned and shaded her eyes as she looked at Sherlock's profile. "So... how is married life treating you?"

Sherlock closed his eyes, then glanced over at her. "I thought it wouldn't change anything, Lizzie, but, I find I treasure him even more than I did before. I know it sounds corny, but, his happiness means even more to me now. I try to tell him, or show him, and it gets all jumbled up, and he all he has to do is catch my eye, or touch my face and I know he knows. It's like we don't even have to talk to know what the other is thinking, and yet, we talk all the time. He's remembering more of the good parts of his childhood, and it doesn't hurt him to share the memories with me anymore. I'm learning so much about him, Lizzie, he isn't afraid to tell me things anymore, I think he finally knows I'm not going anywhere, somehow getting married was a big part of that. I dunno." He shrugged, then got to his feet, picked up the buckets and offered her his hand and helped her to her feet. "Have you and Bits decided on a date yet?"

Lizzie sighed and shook her head. "She's been trying to figure out how to tell her sons about me, about us, they are both lawyers in New York, both on the conservative spectrum, she's not sure how they will deal with the news. You and John made it seem so easy, the way you accepted her into the family, she hopes her sons will be as open-minded, she would like them to come home for the wedding. But, she's scared, Sherlock. I've never seen her scared before. I'm not sure how to help, so - I, I've been doing a lot of weeding lately, I mean a lot of weeding, and she comes out and sits next to me, but doesn't say anything, then goes back in the house -"

"When she's ready, she'll tell you, Lizzie. She's still here, you both are still getting used to this, being together thing, it took us five years, Lizzie, five long years after I got back, and even though it's easier, we still have our moments. Just be patient -"

"You of all people know patience is not one of our strengths, Sherlock."

Sherlock laughed and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "Yeah, I know. Hmmm...maybe -"

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes - don't you -"

"What? I was just thinking -"

"Nope. No - no thinking, no plotting, no planning..."

"Spoilsport."

John opened the kitchen door and smiled at them.

"What? What happened, John - you don't usually smile like that."

"Bits has her sons on Skype, and they want to meet you."

"Damn it, I look like -"

"You look gorgeous as always, love." Bits grinned at her, and tucked a stray curl behind Lizzie's ear. "Come meet my boys, please? I just realized today that I didn't want hide you anymore, Lizzie, I've spent most of my life hiding who I am, who I love, and I'm done hiding. I'm sorry, I know I've been weird lately, but - oh well - come on, love. If they don't love you, screw 'em." Bits grabbed Lizzie by the hand and they almost ran from the kitchen.

"John?"

"Hmmm?"

"What did you say to Bits?"

"Nothing much."

"Nothing much - uh huh, right."

"I just asked her what she would do to make Lizzie happy."

"And -?"

"She said, 'Anything, absolutely - damn, I've been an idiot.' Then she ran to her room and got them on Skype, and told them in no uncertain terms what was what, and I guess they got the message." John grinned as he opened a packet of chocolate biscuits.

"Have I told you how much I love you today?" Sherlock whispered, as he draped his arms around John's waist and kissed his neck.

"Only twice before breakfast, then once after." John sighed as he leaned back into Sherlock's chest.

"Hmmm...I love you, I love you...I -"

"Why don't we go to our room and you can show me instead?"

"I think that could be arranged, Dr. Watson."


End file.
